To Find Her Place (Redemption's Light #2) - Susan Anne Mason Page 0,10

to the door. Short of tackling the large woman, she had no way to make her stay. “Are you sure you won’t change your mind? Maybe once you—”

“I won’t.”

From the grim set to the woman’s jaw, Jane realized that arguing would be a waste of time. “Then I’ll have someone come by tomorrow with release forms. When would be a good time?”

“Anytime when school’s on.” The woman waved a hand as she sailed out the door, slamming it behind her.

The air whooshed from Jane’s lungs, and she fought the urge to sink against the wall.

Mr. Wilder appeared from the back hall. “Martin is eating cookies in the staff room.”

“Alone?” Her voice came out as a screech.

Mr. Wilder frowned. “He’s perfectly safe in there. . . .”

“You don’t understand.” Alarm spurted through her as she raced by him. “You can’t leave Martin alone.” Why hadn’t she stressed that point? Told him that Martin had a tendency to run off?

Her fears were confirmed when she reached the staff room. The cookies and juice sat untouched on the table, the room empty.

“Oh no.” Jane flew down the back corridor to the rear entrance and out the door. “Martin! Martin, come back!”

Finding nothing but a few dead leaves lying on the patio stones, she continued down the side alley between the buildings where the trash cans were stored. “It’s all right, Martin. Mrs. McElroy is gone.”

She stood still, her ears strained for any sign he was near. He couldn’t have gotten far, could he?

Out on Isabella Street, she scanned the sidewalk in both directions. No sign of the boy anywhere. Taking a breath to calm her racing heart, she retraced her steps into the alley. A slight movement by the trash cans caught her eye, and she quickly moved to peer behind them. The collar of Martin’s blue shirt was visible between the cracks.

Relief spilled through her tense muscles. She inhaled slowly as she took a minute to consider the best course of action. The boy used to trust her, but after several unsuccessful foster placements, she understood why that might no longer be the case.

“I’m sorry things didn’t work out with the McElroys,” she said quietly. “Would you like to come in and tell me about it?”

Silence reigned for a moment, then a sniff followed. “No.”

She bent closer to the trash cans. “How can I help you, then? You can’t stay out here all night.” Even though it was the beginning of September, the temperature had already turned cooler, especially at night.

“You’ll make me go back to the shelter. I don’t like it there. Mrs. Shaughnessy hates me.”

Jane held back a sigh. “She doesn’t hate you, Martin. If you obey the rules, you won’t have any trouble with her.”

“The other kids don’t like me either. They make fun of me.” Another sniff followed.

“It’s getting chilly out here.” She rubbed her arms. “Come inside and we can talk there.”

“Is Mr. Mills here?”

Jane paused. The last time Martin had been sent back, Mr. Mills had lost patience with him and had raised his voice at the boy in a moment of exasperation. Even though he apologized later, the damage had been done. “No. Mr. Mills is . . . away right now. I’m in charge for the time being.”

“You are?” A note of hope rang in Martin’s voice.

“Yes, I am.” Jane held her breath, praying her past connection with the boy would win out.

Finally, the metal cans rattled, and Martin stood up, his brown eyes staring at her in silent accusation.

Jane’s heart pinched with regret. Oh, Martin. I’d do anything to give you the family you deserve. How she wished someone could see past the anger and the surly attitude to the hurting child beneath. With a little love and understanding, she was sure Martin would blossom. She held out a hand. “I could use something warm to drink. How about some cocoa?”

He nodded and reluctantly took her hand.

Jane longed to pick him up and hug him. But at eight years old, Martin considered himself too old for such gestures. She contented herself with clasping his small hand in hers and giving it an encouraging squeeze.

When she looked up, her steps slowed. Mr. Wilder stood at the end of the alley, his arms crossed in front of him, a mixture of puzzlement and disapproval on his face. How long had he been watching them?

Garrett scratched his head as Mrs. Linder led the unruly boy back into the building. Why wasn’t she scolding the child for