Worth Fighting For. Judy Duarte

daughter, the little girl who’d become the love of her life.

      “It’s nine-oh-three,” Emily whispered.

      Under other circumstances, Caitlin would have handled Emily differently. She would have told her to be patient and wait until after the phone call. But Caitlin didn’t want to worry about the words she might say, the tears she might cry.

      “Just a minute,” she told Phyllis. Then she placed a hand over the mouthpiece of the receiver. “Em, why don’t you knock on the Blackstone’s door and ask if you can bring Scruffy over here.”

      “To our house?” Her daughter’s eyes brightened. “Okay!”

      Allowing Scruffy to visit hadn’t been an option before, due to Caitlin’s allergies. But right now, she needed some time alone. And although she didn’t usually let Emily go outside unsupervised, the Blackstones shared a wall with Caitlin, and the door was merely steps away from her own. “Leave our front door open so I can watch you, honey.”

      “Okay.” Emily grinned, then dashed outside.

      “I’m sorry for the interruption,” Caitlin told her attorney, “but I didn’t want to talk in front of my daughter.”

      “I can certainly understand that.” Phyllis blew out a sigh. “I won’t lie to you, Caitlin. This case isn’t going to be easy. Emotions will run high, and so will the legal fees. Apparently Zack has an uncle who’s willing to put up the money for his fight.”

      Caitlin’s heart sank. She hadn’t counted on Zack having anyone’s support. She’d heard he was an orphan, and she’d hoped a lack of finances would prohibit him from hiring an attorney.

      “What are the chances that Zack will win custody?” she asked the attorney. “After all, he is her biological father.”

      “I wish I could tell you. Custody cases are never easy to predict, but you’re the only mother Emily has ever known, and that’s a strong point in your favor.”

      But was it enough?

      “Zack will probably claim to be rehabilitated,” Phyllis added. “And his attorney claims he has a job lined up at the construction company, where his uncle works.”

      “He’s still a convicted felon,” Caitlin said. “Surely the courts won’t put a child in his home without being sure he’s really changed.”

      “Even if he’s made a complete turnaround and plans to be a law-abiding citizen and a good father to his child, there are other factors the court will have to consider. Because he’s on parole, his home will be open to random searches and seizures at any time of the day or night. It won’t be a good environment for a child. And that’s another argument I’ll make.”

      A chill crept over Caitlin, and her hands shook. “What happens if Emily’s at the house and they find something like drugs, weapons, some of those delinquents he used to hang around, or other parolees he met while incarcerated?”

      “Zack will be sent back to prison, and social workers will take Emily to the county receiving home.”

      “Oh, God. I can’t let that happen.”

      “Caitlin, I’ll do everything in my power to help you. But keep in mind that you’ll retain custody during the legal proceedings. Then, even if the court does decide to let Zack have Emily, the transfer would probably start with visitation.”

      “I don’t even want her to meet him, let alone spend unsupervised time with him.” Caitlin’s stomach tossed and turned, threatening to upchuck her breakfast and the coffee she’d drank.

      “Let’s not worry until we have something to worry about, all right?”

      That was easy for the attorney to say.

      Caitlin glanced out the door, spotting Emily as she stood on Gerald and Mary’s porch—unaware of the father who threatened her future.

      Emily smiled as the morning sunshine warmed her face. She liked being outside. But even more than that, she liked being a big girl and no longer a baby.

      A bird called from the big tree on the grass. And an engine roared to a start from the carport.

      It was fun to be outdoors alone. To be ’sponsible enough to go get Scruffy all by herself.

      She knocked again at the Blackstone’s door, this time really hard because Mary and Gerald didn’t hear very good.

      A minute later Gerald answered. “Why hello, Emily.” He looked all around. “Where’s your mommy?”

      “She’s talking on the phone. But she said I could come and get Scruffy all by myself and take him to my house to play. And when she’s all done talking, we can go on our walk.”

      “You’re sure getting to be a big girl,” Harvey said.

      Emily was glad to know he thought so, too.

      Scruffy barked, as he came running, wagging his bushy tail like he was really happy to see her. That’s why Emily loved the little dog. ’Cause he always kissed her face until it was all wet.

      She giggled, then plopped down to her knees and let Scruffy welcome her with wags and licks and little whines.

      “How about a treat?” Mary asked her. “I just baked a fresh batch of oatmeal cookies with raisins.”

      “No, thank you. My tummy is all filled up with breakfast.” Emily pooched out her stomach and rubbed it. “See?”

      “Maybe after your walk.”

      Emily nodded.

      “Hold on a minute, Scruffy.” Mr. Blackstone stooped, as he snapped the hook onto the squirmy little dog’s collar, then handed Emily the leash. “Have a good time on your walk, sweetheart.”

      “I will.” Emily gave Scruffy a big hug. “Okay, let’s go get Mommy.”

      As Gerald closed his door, and Emily took Scruffy down the steps, the doggie pulled her onto the grass, so he could go potty. When he was all done, he started to run for the sidewalk, where Mommy and Emily usually walked. But Emily pulled him back. “Not yet, Scruffy. We gotta wait for Mommy.”

      Scruffy was sad, but he obeyed Emily. And that made her happy. As they walked toward Emily’s house, Scruffy spotted a butterfly on the flower bush by the front door. He barked and wagged his tail.

      Emily had to use both hands to hold him back. “Silly, you can’t play with butterflies. God made them for us to look at. Isn’t this one pretty?”

      She studied the yellow and black wings. It was one of the prettiest she’d ever seen that wasn’t in a picture book.

      When they went on walks, Mommy let Emily and Scruffy look at things like rolly-pollies, the little gray bugs that rolled into balls when they were shy or scared.

      Maybe it was okay to stay in the front yard. Mommy couldn’t get mad at that. Besides, Emily wouldn’t go anywhere ’cept stay on the lawn.

      The butterfly flew away, toward Greg’s house, where Brett was staying.

      He was a nice man, just like Greg. And he’d said she could come over and visit Fred.

      She got a good idea that made her smile. Maybe Brett and Fred wanted to take a walk with them.

      Emily didn’t know if Fred had a leash, like Scruffy did, but Brett could carry him.

      “Come on, Scruffy. Let’s go see our neighbors.”

      Brett rolled over in bed, taking the pillow and placing it over his head, blocking out the sunlight that pierced through a bent slat in the blinds.

      There weren’t too many mornings when he had the luxury of sleep. Besides, he’d stayed awake last night, long after he’d left Caitlin’s house.

      He wasn’t exactly sure why he