could have done in the neighborhood was buy heroin or crack.
“It was nice of you to bring things for the children. They love it when people visit. I wish we could do more for them, but we never have enough money. I have to save what we've got for the important stuff like salaries, heat, and medication. They'd much rather have ice cream,” she said, smiling at Charlie. And as she did, he was suddenly glad he'd come.
He had wanted to see her again, but now that he had, he couldn't think of a reason to justify it. He told himself he admired the work she did, which was true, but there was more to it than that. He enjoyed talking to her and wanted to know her better. But he couldn't explain it to himself. She was a social worker, and he ran the foundation. Now that they had given her the money she needed, other than financial reports, there was no real excuse for further contact. Their lives were too different for there to be an excuse for social contact between them. He already knew that she had nothing but contempt for the life he led, and the world he came from. She was a woman who was sacrificing herself for a bunch of kids who were fighting for survival. He was a man who lived a life of luxury and self-indulgence.
“Is there anything I can do for you?” she asked him helpfully, as he shook his head. He couldn't think of a single excuse to linger, although he would have liked to.
“No, I'll come back and see the kids again, if you don't mind. I'd like to check on Gabby.”
“She's doing fine, now that she has Zorro. She's going to start at a special school next month. We think she's ready.”
“Will she leave here then?” he asked, worried about the child, as he looked at Carole.
“Not for a while. Eventually, we'll try to get her into foster care, and feed her back into the system. But a special-needs kid like her isn't easy to place, for obvious reasons. People who provide foster homes aren't ready to deal with a blind kid and a Seeing Eye dog.”
“Then what?” He had never thought about it before, but for a child like Gabby, life was going to be hard, harder than most. Probably forever.
“If we can't find foster parents for her, then we'll put her in a group home. There are a lot of them in upstate New York. She'll be fine.”
“No, she won't,” he said, looking distraught. It was as though he had discovered a whole other world full of people with problems no one could solve. In this case, all of them were kids. And none of what had happened to them had been their fault.
“She'll be as fine as any of them are,” Carole said carefully. “Maybe better, thanks to your gift. Zorro is going to be a big plus in her life.”
“Don't you wonder what happens to all of them, after they leave here?” The plight of the children she tended to tugged at his heart.
“Of course I do. But we can only do so much, Mr. Harrington,” she said coolly, guarded again.
“Charlie, please,” he interrupted her.
“We can only do what we can. It's like emptying the ocean with a thimble sometimes. But there are success stories too. Kids who find great foster homes with good people and thrive. Others who get adopted by people who love them. Kids we get operations for, who wouldn't have otherwise. Gabby and her dog. Some of their problems we can solve, some we can't. You just have to accept where the limits are, otherwise it breaks your heart.” He had never seen as closely where their money went, or who it was going to. He had never looked into faces like theirs, or met a woman like her, who was devoting her life to changing the world for a handful of souls on a backstreet in Harlem. Since he'd come there the first time, only days before, it had turned his life upside down, and his heart. “They told us in school that you have to be professional, keep a distance, and not get too involved. But sometimes you just can't. Sometimes I go home at night, and I just lie in bed and cry.” It was easy for him to imagine now. He had done the same himself.
“You must need to take a breather sometimes,” he said thoughtfully,