Reprisal

Once again Bill watched in amazement as Da

And Sara…

Bill saw the light in her eyes, the warmth in her expression as she focused on Da

Da

"I like her. She's nüüce."

"Yes, Da

"Can I live with her?"

The question took Bill by surprise. The title of an old song flashed through his brain: "Am I That Easy to Forget?" But he ignored the hurt and concentrated on Da

"I don't know, Da

"Can I pleeease?"

"I don't know yet, Da

"Can I visit, maybe?"

"We'll look into that too. But Sara and her husband and I have many things to discuss first. So why don't you get washed up for di

"Okay." Hope shone like a beacon behind his eyes as he turned back to her. "See ya, Sara."

She gave him a hug, then held him out to arm's length.

"See ya, Da

He trotted off down the hall.

"I think you've got a friend," Bill told Sara.

"I think so too," she said, smiling warmly. Then she gave Bill a level look. "But will that friend be allowed to become my son, Father Ryan?"

"If I've learned one thing in this job, Sara, it's never to make a promise I'm not absolutely sure I can keep—not to the adult applicants, and certainly never to the boys. But we're off to a good start. Let's see where we can go from here."

Her eyes widened, her voice was suddenly small and husky. "You mean you've reconsidered?"

When he nodded she lowered her face into her hands and began to sob. The sight of her tears moved Bill and confirmed his growing conviction that he was doing the best thing for Da

SEVENTEEN

The reference checks went smoothly. Both Herb and Sara had excellent academic records at U. of Texas, he in accounting, she in early education. Their credit record was excellent. The home inspection was perfect—a two-story center-hall colonial in a quiet residential neighborhood in Astoria where the Loms were active in the local parish. Bill went so far as to call Sara's old pastor in Houston. Father Geary knew Sara Bainbridge—her maiden name—and remembered her as a sweet, wonderful young woman; Herb came from a wealthy family and wasn't quite the churchgoer Sara was, but the parish priest considered him a good man.

The whole process went swimmingly. The weekend visits came off without incident, and Da

By late fall Da

It was almost miraculous. Almost too good to be true.

And that bothered Bill a little. In his two decades with St. F.'s he'd rarely seen an adoption go so smoothly. And so when he lay in bed at night, alone with the dark, the lack of glitches would wake that nagging little voice and spur it to whisper its nebulous doubts in his ear.

That was why he was almost relieved when the first little glitch reared its head during the week before Christmas.

Herb had been pushing to finalize the adoption by Christmas, his reasoning being that he wanted to usher in the new year with the three of them together as a family. Bill didn't doubt that, but he had an inkling that with Herb's background in accounting he was well aware that Da

Which was okay with Bill. Raising a child in New York City was hellishly expensive and parents deserved any financial break they could get. That wasn't the glitch.

The glitch was Da

"But I don't want to go," he told Bill one evening during the week before Christmas.

Bill patted his lap. "Why don't you hop up here and tell me why not?"

"Because I'm scared," Da

"Are you scared of Sara?"

"No. She's nüice."

"How about Herb? Are you scared of him?"

"No. I'm just scared about leaving here."

Bill smiled to himself and gave Da

"Everybody's a little scared when they leave, Da

Da

"Tommy Lurie? No way! He's not scared of nothing!"

"Well, he was. But he's doing fine. Wasn't he back just yesterday telling everybody how great it was?"

Da

"And don't forget, you're not moving far away. You can call me whenever you want."

"Can I come back and visit like Tommy did?"

"Sure can. You're welcome here anytime you want to come and the Loms can bring you. But pretty soon you'll be so happy and busy with Herb and Sara you'll forget all about us here at St. F.'s."

"I'll never do that."

"Good. Because we love you too. The Loms love you. Everybody loves you. Because you're a good kid, Da

That was Bill's message to all the boys at St. F.'s, most of whom were basket cases in the self-esteem department when they arrived. Bill began pounding it home from the moment they stepped through the front door: You are loved here. You have value. You are important. You're a good kid. After a while a fair number of them came to believe they were worth something.

The message was more than mere rote in Da

So he sat there with his heart breaking as he held Da