Finding Our Forever. Brenda Novak

very well—not for people who are used to receiving preferential treatment.”

      “I’ve lost several students over that policy,” she admitted. “All parents agree to it when they enroll their child—but can change their minds once they want or need special treatment.” She pushed a strand of loose hair out of her face. “Regardless, I won’t bend. To me it’s a matter of integrity. And, if a parent will stand behind me, their son usually settles down and begins to learn the lessons they were hoping we’d teach him.”

      Cora swallowed another bite of her cookie. “How does that play out in a social setting—for the kids, I mean?”

      Aiyana took another sip of coffee. “Depends. We take a hard line on bullying, too—watch carefully for it. Most get the message early on that the rules are firmer here, but fair to all, and life falls into a sustainable rhythm. I don’t think we’re too terribly different from other high schools—all schools have some behavioral problems.”

      “But you’ve taken on the behavioral problems other schools can no longer cope with. Doesn’t that ever make you feel...intimidated?”

      “I wouldn’t want to go back and start over—I can tell you that,” she said with a mirthless chuckle. “But now that we’re up and running, and I’ve got the momentum that comes from doing this for so long, it’s easier than it was. Still, I couldn’t continue without the community support I’ve received, not to mention the devoted teachers we have here—and Elijah, who has such a knack for communicating with these boys. Even if I can’t get one to behave, he usually can.”

      Cora pictured Aiyana’s son on top of that horse. “Elijah’s your secret weapon.”

      “Absolutely.”

      She studied Aiyana’s face. Her mother was so pretty despite the lines that were beginning to appear around her eyes and mouth and the ribbons of gray in her hair. “I hope you don’t mind me asking, but...”

      “Ask me anything,” she said.

      “I was wondering what nationality you are.”

      She seemed surprised by the question—that Cora would have any interest in that—but not put off. “My mother is a Nicaraguan immigrant. My father was a white farmhand in the Central Valley.”

      “Are they still alive?”

      “They are. But my mother is no longer with my father. He was an abusive man, so I don’t have any contact with him, either. For many years now she’s been with the farmer who employed them both and has been so much happier. What about you? What nationality are you?”

      Cora thought it might be too coincidental if she were to say she was part Nicaraguan, but that was good to know—filled in one of the many blanks in her life. Aiyana had said her father was white; from her skin tone, Cora assumed hers was, too. “I’m a mix, I think.”

      “And your parents? Where are they?”

      “In LA. My father’s a financial planner. My mother’s sort of a...socialite.”

      She smiled at that. “Do you have siblings?”

      “An older brother who’s larger than life and terribly handsome. Like a lot of people in LA, he’s a movie producer. What about you?”

      “I have one older brother and two younger brothers, but I don’t see my younger brothers very often.”

      She seemed noticeably saddened by that. “They don’t live close?”

      “My brothers are all over California. One owns a winery in Napa. One is in banking in San Francisco. The oldest runs the farm for my mom and stepdad in Los Banos, where I grew up.”

      “Are they all married?”

      “Yes. With kids. What about your brother?”

      Suppressing her curiosity about why Aiyana had never married, Cora answered the question. “Still playing the field.”

      “Sounds like my sons.”

      “Where are they all? I mean, besides Eli, of course.”

      “Gavin, my second oldest, has a house in town but works here. He’s a handyman, can fix anything.”

      “Really?” Cora had been around for five days, yet she couldn’t recall ever seeing a handyman. “Was he at the meeting on Monday?”

      “No. He’s not someone who likes to get involved in the administration aspect of the ranch. He prefers to remain in the background, which is why he lives in town.”

      “How old is he?”

      “Twenty-eight. I adopted him three years after I adopted Elijah. Then there’s Dallas. He’s twenty-five and a mountain climber, so he’s usually off, traveling to remote destinations all over the world. I don’t get to see him much.” She seemed to regret that but moved on. “Seth is twenty-three. He recently graduated from UC Berkeley, wants to be a sculptor. That’s one of the reasons I love art so much,” she confided. “I’m not sure what I would’ve done with him if I hadn’t been able to reach him in that way...”

      “He has...emotional issues?”

      “Anger issues, mostly. I seem to gravitate to the most damaged of the boys. I can’t help trying to make them whole.”

      Did Aiyana always accomplish that? Or were some of her sons too damaged? “Let’s see—Elijah, Gavin, Dallas and Seth. That’s four sons, but I heard you have eight,” Cora said. “What about the others?”

      “Ryan and Taylor are twins. Well, they’re not actually related, but we call them twins because they’re the same age and have done just about everything together since they met here at the ranch. They’re still in college. Ryan wants to be a planetary scientist, and Taylor has set his sights on becoming a theoretical physicist. They’re both too brilliant for their own good,” she added. “Now that they’re actually applying themselves.”

      “Where do they go to school?”

      “MIT. Then I have Liam and Bentley, who go here. Liam’s a senior. Bentley’s a sophomore.”

      “I wonder if I’ve seen either one of them around.”

      “Not yet. They’ve been with Dallas at Yosemite the past ten days. He’s teaching them how to climb.”

      “That’s nice of him.”

      “They live to spend time with their older brothers.” She lowered her voice. “He better not let them get hurt, though.”

      “It’s a scary sport.” Cora dusted the cookie crumbs off her “boyfriend” jeans. “Would you ever consider adopting more?”

      Finished with her coffee, Aiyana pushed the cup aside. “I keep telling myself I need to stop. But every couple of years, it seems as if there’s at least one more I’m dying to take home with me.”

      “That means...maybe?”

      “I guess. It’ll depend on the circumstances.”

      So she would take in another boy if she felt he needed her that much, Cora decided. “Did you always want a big family?” she asked and then held her breath. She thought this might be the most revealing question yet, that it might give her some clue as to why Aiyana hadn’t wanted her, but Aiyana’s face grew shuttered as she shook her head.

      “No. Never thought I’d have any kids.”

      Cora was dying to ask why, but there was something so forbidding in the sudden change in Aiyana’s expression and body language that she could tell it would be too intrusive. Aiyana had essentially slammed the door shut on that subject, and she didn’t stick around long enough to give Cora much of a chance to talk about anything else.

      “I’d better go.” She reclaimed her empty cup as she stood. “It’s been wonderful having a chance to chat, but I’ve got