"She's only seventeen, Sam. Her parents have to make that decision."
"She's eighteen. Her birthday was earlier this month. Guess how she celebrated." He stared at each adult in turn. "She got drunk and stoned and ended up here, after trying to kill herself. Remember?"
Doctor Rivers did remember. He had almost put her in a program then, but her parents objected.
He examined the man-child in front of him. Sam was about six feet tall, too thin, but muscular. His brown hair was long and sleek with bushy sideburns and scruffy beard. His pale blue eyes held pain and the wisdom of ages. He was fragile, but there was a core of steel inside that forced him to stand straight and meet the doctor's scrutiny with incredible dignity.
"Okay. I'll start the paperwork."
When he walked out, Sam sighed with relief, almost collapsing on in on himself.
"Life is not always about a fight, Sam," Rosalee said quietly.
Sam didn't look at Rosalee, just stared at the closed door. "Mine is." He walked to the waiting room.
Rosalee followed him. "Would you like to go with her?"
"Go where?"
"For treatment. We can arrange it. Do you want to go?"
"I can't pay."
"The state will pay, since you're in foster care."
His face brightened. "Can I really go?"
"You will have to follow the rules. Not cause trouble."
"I don't cause trouble, Rosalee. Trouble kind of finds me. She needs this."
"You need it just as much."
"Yes."
"And you need Emma."
Sam shuffled, hands deep in the back pockets of his tattered, dirty jeans. Faded hoodie over a baggy T-shirt couldn't hide the fact that he was too thin.
"Maybe."
"I see it in everything you do. And I suspect she needs you, too."
"Emma needs a keeper," he confessed.
"And it was you she called."
"It always is. Ever since she was ten and her dad—after he started in on her.... It's always been me she turned to."
"Eight years? That child's endured eight years of this, and no one did anything?"
"Her dad has unimpeachable credentials, according to the judge. A pillar of society."
Rosalee said nothing, waiting for the next revelation.
"He's a f**king preacher. Aren't they supposed to be above reproach?"
"Oh, my dear Lord," Rosalee gasped.
"She needs to get away—from this town, from him, from her mother—that woman is so afraid someone will find out, she lies about it. She closes her eyes to what he's done, so it won't cause a scandal." His blue eyes flashed in anger. "If I could, I'd take Emma far away, and never come back."
"Maybe one day you will."
"She needs to get away before something else goes wrong. I worry about her getting something awful from all this...." He gestured vaguely. "I keep hoping her old man will catch something. Explain an STD to your congregation." He made a rude noise.
"You asked if she was pregnant again?"
"Three times so far. She's had abortions. Either from the parties, or her old man. I don't know."
"Not yours?"
"I'm careful."
"Condoms aren't infallible."
"I know—I'm careful."
©2020 Dellani Oakes
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