Late afternoon on a Thursday morning, the office hummed with activity as it did most days. Shuffling bodies, conversations in low tones and the drone of frustration permeated everything.
Riva took a sip of coffee from the cheap Styrofoam cup on her desk and grimaced. Nearly cold, the swill tasted even worse than when it was hot and fresh. Sighing as her eyes swept around the room, observing her fatigue mirrored in the faces of the young people seated next to desks aligned in two neat rows on each side with an aisle in the center and worse yet, the placid masks of her co-workers.
Sighing again, she closed her eyes to shut out the bleakness of the scene surrounding her. It helped to keep her mind from screaming at what seemed like the futility of it all. Unfortunately, she couldn’t plug her ears without drawing attention.
Incorrigible
Boys right in the house. I have small children.
Caught with drugs.
Unruly. Disrespectful.
I just can’t handle him/her/them.
The soft sound of a file dropping on her desk brought her out of the cacophony and back to the moment.
“Here’s another one for you.” The woman said with a twisted smile.
A young woman, maybe fourteen, took a seat beside the desk, a bored, disinterested mask on her otherwise pretty face.
Riva thought she recognized her but that was a hazard of the job. So many kids cycled and recycled through the system; it became difficult to say. She wouldn’t let herself think that they all began to look the same. That thought wouldn’t lead anywhere that ended well. She opened the file. “Hi, Kiki.”
The girl didn’t respond but only stared blankly at her.
“Looks like you’ve been here before.” She didn’t see her own name in the case file, so it wasn’t likely she’d placed her. “Three foster homes in three years. You keep running away. What’s up with that?”
Kiki shrugged. What good did it do to complain to these people? She’d tried after her first bad experience only to be moved a place not much better.
“Well, you’re in luck today.” Riva announced with a weary smile. “We have a family ready to take you, so you won’t have to go to a group home.”
She couldn’t say whether she felt lucky or not. Some group homes, or so she’d heard, could be better than some of these “family” situations but some were much worse.
“That sound good to you?”
“Does it matter?” She replied dully.
Riva sighed and closed the file. “I suppose not but what is the alternative?”
Kiki knew well there wasn’t one. Her mother had OD’d three years before. Whoever her father might have been had exited before she was even born. No other family seemed to exist. Mumbling an incoherent sound, she hung her head.
“The Radners are waiting.” Riva said, rising. “I’ll take you to them now.”
Half shuffling behind, she observed the man and woman waiting in the lobby. They looked decent enough, but she knew from experience that looks could be very deceiving.
Riva watched them go; the woman chattering seemingly without caring whether the young girl responded or not. Squeezing her eyes shut, she steeled herself. Her part of this situation had ended unless called upon for a home inspection.
Kiki checked out, staring unseeing at what passed by outside the window.
Mrs. Radner, Cora by name, rambled on about house rules and what they expected.
Nothing new, she thought, same thing, different place.
They arrived at the Radner house; a nice looking, well-kept place with neat lawn, a pretty, white door with pewter knocker, manicured shrubbery on either side and mixed wood and stone, unpeeling and clean. There were lots of windows.
Curious, Kiki thought. Most of the places she’d been seemed closed up; in her mind, to keep out prying eyes from the ugliness it contained. Was it possible this place might be different?
Mr. Radner, whose name she’d already forgotten, headed in the direction of what seemed like the kitchen.
Mrs. Radner, Cora — she’d have to get used to calling her that – conducted the tour. “This is the living room. You’re free to watch TV in your spare time — once chores and homework are done — but we don’t allow any horror or graphic material.”
Kiki nodded. No sacrifice there. She wasn’t into any of that anyway.
“There’s an office at the back of the house where my husband does some work. It has the only computer in the house. Time on it is an earned privilege and we have parental controls to limit the kind of content.”
Mumbling affirmation, she followed as Cora led her down the hall.
“Your room is here at the end on the right, it looks out on the back yard.”
Passing several doors, she noticed three: one had an array of Manga characters displayed on it. The other just closed and the third a bathroom.
“My son, Devan is into that animated stuff.” Cora explained.
Kiki smirked to herself. Poor woman; didn’t know the difference between animated and anime. She wouldn’t correct her; she wasn’t into it and didn’t care.
“You’ll meet the boys later.” Cora said, opening the door to what would be her room.
It appeared nice enough. The single bed had a clean, floral spread with matching pillow cover, a desk with a reading lamp and a holder for pens and other sundries, along with some notebooks and folders. A small closet a the front on the far wall had nice plastic hangers in it.
“I wasn’t sure what you might need for school.” Cora said, apologetically. “We can get what you need after your first day tomorrow.”
Staring blankly, she nodded. This wasn’t what she was used to. What was the catch?
The front door slammed.
Kiki jumped.
“Hey, Mom! What is there to eat?”
“Devan.” Cora smiled and then called. “Check the fridge!”
She had never stayed in a place where the people had their own kids. Could this place really be different?
“I’ll leave you to get settled.” Cora said, eyeing her backpack. “I better check on him.”
Nodding silently, she took a seat on the bed; soft and comfortable enough. Unsure what to do, she just sat looking out the window that showed the yard behind the house.
Neatly mowed, just out of sight to the right, the edge of what was likely a patio appeared. The entire yard surrounded by a privacy fence, she couldn’t see where the gate out was; if there was one. Most likely there had to be, unless it connected to the back side of the garage.
Motion in the doorway brought an energy into the room.
Kiki turned to see who it might be. She didn’t think they had any pets.
A young man stood there. Hair long, side parted, shaved on one side and long on the other, his eyes probing over a toothy grin, as he leaned against the door frame. “You must be the newbie.”
“Devan?” She asked.
He laughed knowingly. “Hardly. I’m Snickers.”
“Snickers?” She repeated, raising one brow disdainfully.
“Yeah. Sweet, slick and with tasty nuts inside.”
Something in his way made her skin crawl.
“I’m the other foster.” He explained.
“Oh.”
“They’re all right.” He grinned, his expression oily.
Kiki had seen that look before and it filled her with dread.
“The welcome wagon comes after lights out.” He eyed her. “Oh, and look!” He fiddled with the door handle.” No locks on the inside.” His chuckle menacing, he added. “Cora and Bob’s room’s on the other side of the house.”
No, Kiki thought. Not again. She couldn’t bear that. No. Not again.
“How are things going at the hospital, Mama?” Riva asked, perusing the menu she held.
“Busy as always.” Her mother’s tone sounded cheerful, as always. Dropping her own to look at her daughter’s hidden face she added. “Oh, guess what?”
“What?” Now Riva set hers down, decisively .
“I’ve been offered the chance to work in the ER.”
“Really? That’s fantastic!”
Beaming, her mother’s enthusiasm felt almost tangible as she nodded. “You know, I’ve always wanted to see what that would be like.”
Putting on more excitement than she felt, she replied. “I know. Is it an assignment or…?”
“Just a trial for now.” The older woman explained. “Many decide it isn’t for them, so they aren’t making it permanent. At least not yet.”
“Wow. That’s really wonderful.” Her tone seemed flat, even to her own ears; not that she wasn’t genuinely happy for her; just that her own cares were weighing heavy at the moment.
“What’s wrong, baby?”
“Oh, nothing.”
“Don’t you oh nothing me.” She insisted firmly. “You can’t hide anything from me. You know that.”
Riva nodded, with a sigh. So true; even when she had gone through her slightly rebellious iteenage years. Somehow, Mama always knew. Maybe it was her active prayer life. It seemed like she knew things she couldn’t have any other way. “It’s not really anything. You know…”
Setting her own menu down, she leaned in. “Don’t you give me that.”
“Oh, Mama.” She spilled wearily. “I got into social work because I wanted to help people. But lately… I don’t know…”
“Something happen?”
“Nothing specifically. It’s just… Everyday…” She sighed again. “My co-workers seem to care less and less… like they’ve just given up. And I’m fighting with the frustration as we see the same kids, over and over. Hopeless. Hurting.” Shaking her head, her weariness showed as her head dropped slightly.
“You know,” her mother brightened. “We have a couple at church. They shared during the missions highlight a few weeks ago. They have some kind of ministry. For young people.”
Riva looked at her and frowned. “Ministry? Like, a group home? Or a shelter?”
Shaking her head, she replied. “I don’t think so. I think it’s more than that. They call it Restoration Ranch. It’s some kind of compound or something. Outside town.”
Sounded sketchy to Riva but through the church? “So, what do they do? Do they work with the foster care system?”
“No. Not foster care. I don’t know all the details, but they said they’re getting real results.”
“That’s great, I guess. But I don’t see how that helps. Outside the system, I mean.”
“Well, think about it.” Her mother replied as the server approached. “I can get information if you want to check it out.”
Probably not. Riva thought but wouldn’t say so, knowing her mother only wanted to help.
Running away had been easy; an art she’d developed by practice; casing the house and formulating a plan practically the minute she arrived. Find the most expedient exit from the house, at the most propitious time and bolt. During her years in the foster care system, she’d practiced it to perfection. It had become more than just a habit; it was a survival skill. As luck would have it, the window was unlocked and conveniently, a gate, well-oiled and silent served as the exit. No having to figure out the garage.
Luck had never been a word she’d use to describe any aspect of her life, but it seemed practically providential how easy it had been. Now though, two days had passed and she nearly regretted her choice.
Over the years, she’d found that after dark, the park downtown served as a kind of meeting place for street kids, the homeless and runaways. Of course, drug dealers and hustlers also frequented it, but if you were careful, you could stay off their radar and out of their way. The kids would meet, sometimes to share food, plan some way to get what they needed, evade the police and even to hook up at times.
Kiki hadn’t found anyone there either night. Her stomach hurt with hunger; she’d never had to dumpster dive, steal anything or trade herself to get by. As bad as she felt, she couldn’t quite get there yet. Her record was clean, shoplifting and grifting weren’t skills she’d had to develop. Others had always done the hard part; shealways served as lookout or a distraction.
Shelters were to be avoided. They were a ticket to juvey or worse. She’d slept in the park restroom, curled up in one of the stalls so the beat cops wouldn’t discover her.
Night falling, she felt desperate and desolate. Why she didn’t simply end it all, she couldn’t say but that was something she couldn’t bring herself to do no matter how bad or difficult things got. What to do now? She needed to eat. Where was everyone?
As she entered the park, she noticed someone who looked familiar. Hope rose and she called, “Nina?”
The girl, hollow-eyed, rail thin and scantily dressed, turned numbly. Squinting she seemed disoriented. “Who…? Kiki, is that you?”
Kiki rushed forward, suddenly enthusiastic, despite the change in the girl’s appearance; rail thin, hollow eyed but cleaner than the last time they’d met as though she had regular showers, not the sponge baths in public bathrooms that were the norm out here.
“Where have you been?”
With a shrug, she replied. “I got caught. Sent back to foster care.”
“Oh,” Nina nodded blandly.
“What are you doing out here alone? Where is everybody?”
The other girl shrugged. “I dunno. I just needed a break.”
“A break? What do you mean?”
“I’m with Raphael now.” Her tone matter of fact, she rubbed her arms.
“What?! Why? I mean, his girls are all drug addicts and …: She hadn’t noticed the tracks on the younger girl’s arms until then. It sent a shiver up her spine. “I thought you said you’d never…”
Scowling, Nina’s voice turned hard. “Look, Kiki, don’t judge me.”
Shaking her head, she went to speak.
Before she could, the younger girl, who couldn’t have been more than twelve, went on, her voice hard. “I got tired of starving, of sleeping in alleys or worse, stealing or worse, trying to get by. I have a room now, eat every day and…”
“I’m not judging you.” She meant it; it made sense on one level. “But, how do you…?”
She laughed. “It’s not that hard when you’re flying.”
Once again, she shivered. Neither option appealed to her, bed or no bed, food or no food; but how long would that last? She had nowhere to go. What would she do?
“I could hook you up.” Nina offered. “With Raphael, I mean.”
Kiki shook her head.
“All right.” She shrugged. “I’ve got to get back. He’ll be looking for me.”
“Is there anyone else around?”
“I don’t know. Mostly I don’t see anybody. anymore” Reaching into her bag, she pulled out several bills and handed them to the other girl. “Get something to eat. You look like crap.”
“Thanks.” Kiki replied gratefully as the young girl walked away. She slipped the bills in her pocket and made quickly for the exit to the park. It wouldn’t be good for a girl alone after dark and in the open and she had to eat.
Before she could make it out, someone grabbed her from behind and everything went black.
Riva never checked her phone while driving so it wasn’t a surprise to find a missed text when she arrived at work. The source, however, gave her pause.
Call me when you get this please. From her mother.
Immediately, as she sat down, purse still on the desk, she speed-dialed.
“Hi, baby.”
“What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
“Yes, yes. I didn’t mean to worry you.”
“What’s up?”
“There’s a girl here. She came in over the weekend, in bad shape.” Her mother paused. “She’s regained consciousness but won’t speak.”
“Okay.” Riva wasn’t quite sure where this was going.
“No ID. Young. Maybe fourteen or fifteen.” She sighed and then added. “I think she might be a runaway.”
“Ah.” That would be the connection. “Okay. I’m on my way.”
Her boss agreed quickly and sent her on her way.
Waiting at the entry to the hospital, her mother’s face showed distress.
“Mama?”
“This way.” She motioned for Riva to follow and she obeyed. She explained. “She’s been moved out of the ICU and into a room for observation while we try to locate a next of kin or guardian.”
She just nodded assent, knowing her mother couldn’t see as she followed.
The older woman entered the room first, and then turned, her tone low. “She’s been badly beaten.”
“And…?”
A grave nod.
Riva gently moved the curtain surrounding the bed, preparing herself for what lay on the other side. She gasped. “Oh, no…”
“What is it?” Her mother knew her daughter had seen her share of rough cases and tragedy so the reaction seemed unusual. “Oh, my gosh, you know her.”
“Yes,” she mumbled. “Her name is Kiki. We just placed her with a family last week.”
At the sound of her name, the girl’s head turned toward them. Despite the cuts and bruises on her face, her eyes grew wide and she shrieked. “No! No, you can’t take me back. I’d rather die!”
Shocked, Riva approached lowly. “What happened, Kiki? Did they hurt you?”
“A couple of beat cops found her at the entrance of the park. They brought her in.”
“I won’t go back.” Her voice filled with resolve, even in its weakness.
“Calm down.” Riva soothed. “This can’t be good for you. Will you tell me what happened?”
Kiki turned away and went silent.
“Dear God,” she spoke as if to no one.
“What?” Bess prompted.
Quietly, she lamented. “We’re failing them, Mama. We’re failing these children.”
“What can you do?”
“I don’t know.” Turning to face her, she continued. “She’ll run again… or worse.”
“What about that couple I told you about. Have you checked them out?”
Shaking her head, it didn’t seem a likely prospect.
“Would you at least talk to them?”
At this point, it might at least be worth considering. “Okay.”
“I’ll reach out to Pastor Wendell. He has their contact information.”
Riva nodded. “There isn’t anything I can do here. I’ll pull her file and get you what information I have.”
“All right.” Her mother agreed. “She isn’t going anywhere for a while.”
Feeling more discouraged than ever, she acknowledged and left the room. All the way back to the office, she wondered. What had they done? What kind of system was this?
The text came mid-afternoon: The McCandlisses had invited them, along with Pastor Wendell to the ranch for a meeting and possible tour.
As tired as she felt after a long, discouraging day, Riva simply had to recall Kiki’s response at seeing her to push on and accept the offer.
Pastor Wendell had offered to drive, having visited the ranch many times before.
It gave Riva an opportunity to observe, but up front, there didn’t appear to be much to see. She did notice the cross that served as the “T” in the sign that topped the arch over the gate as they drove in, standing as it did in the center of the chain link fence that stretched endlessly to either side. It must have been half a mile before they came to a building. Curious, she wondered if it was meant to keep the kids from running.
Upon entering the building, they were greeted by a man who came out one of the rooms. Solidly built, with a strong upper body, dressed in a checked work shirt, jeans and cowboy boots, his weather-beaten face showed crinkles about the eyes as he smiled broadly. His eyes shone with open kindness. Extending his hand, he shook that of the pastor as he nodded. “Pastor.”
Pastor Wendell smiled. “Ned.” Then turning to the two women, he introduced them. “This is Bess and her daughter, Riva.”
Ned nodded. “Pleasure.” Indicating the office, he stepped aside and waved. “Come on in.”
A woman, seated near the desk rose as they entered. Smiling casually, she greeted. “I’m Winnie, Ned’s wife.”
The two women murmured acknowledgement.
“Please, sit.” She said, arm sweeping toward the chairs in front of the desk.
Ned took a seat behind it as the others settled. “I thought I’d give you the overview of what we do here, then a tour, if you’re interested.”
“Is this a group home environment?” Riva wondered.
His head shook. “Not exactly.”
Her expression indicated the follow up question.
“What we do here is a whole life approach.” Winnie offered.
“A whole life approach? What does that mean?”
“We minister to our kids, spirit, soul and body.” Ned continued.
Shaking her head, she clearly still didn’t understand.
“There’s a home school curriculum, kind of like a one room schoolhouse. All the kids are in the classroom, working at their grade level on computers. We also have a couple of retired, certified teachers who volunteer their time should the kids need any help.” He took a breath. “We have chapel and morning devotions to start the day. After school, there’s a variety of things that happen.”
“Like?” Bess spoke up.
“It’s a rotation. The kids help with chores, taking care of the animals, and if they have an interest, some art, music and sports. That part we’re still developing though.”
“Are you part of the foster care system?” Riva asked, wondering that she’d never heard about them before.
“No.” Winnie replied.
“Why not?”
“If we took state money, there’s a chance they could set limits on what we teach — the bible, civics and America’s whole history.”
“How are you funded then?”
“It’s mostly local churches and businesses but this is also a working ranch. We have livestock and produce.”
Riva nodded.
“Then,” Winnie went on. “We have a partnership with local businesses. Some of our high schoolers have paid part-time jobs. We teach them responsibility; they get real life experience and learn how to handle money.”
“Tell them about the Foster Futures program.” Pastor Wendell urged.
“We started a program last year.” Ned said. “For kids who’ve aged out of foster care but don’t have the means or life skills to survive on their own. We provide them with a place to stay and meals, assist them with gaining the life skills and experience to be successful. That’s also part of our partnership with local businesses.”
Riva couldn’t help being impressed. “What about kids who’ve been traumatized or have addictions? And how do you protect them from…?”
Smiling, Winnie nodded. “We have faith-based counselors who work with them, if they need it. And the dormitories are single sex, with adult supervision to prevent any shenanigans. Our people are committed Christians and well-vetted.”
“Ever have any problems? With any of the kids? You know, running away or acting out?”
Ned nodded. “We’ve had a couple leave the program. They didn’t want to embrace the Christian aspect. We let them go into a secular situation elsewhere, if that’s what they want. And we’re very clear about what’s expected when they sign up for the program. When they’re faced with having to drop out, after we’ve made every effort to work with them and they still continue to break the rules, they usually make a decision to stay and to abide by our guidance.”
“Most are really grateful for the opportunity.” Pastor Wendell offered. “Particularly if they come from any kind of a bad situation.”
“We consider ourselves family and we operate that way.”
Winnie nodded. “They respond to the love of God they’re being shown and that’s being modeled for them. Most have never experienced it.”
“How many kids do you have?” Bess wondered.
“Right now, thirty that are school age and ten in the Futures program.”
“Are you still taking kids in?” Riva’s thoughts turned to Kiki.
“We have room for ten more but are also just finishing a new building that will allow us room for twenty. Right now, since we launched it so recently, our Futures program is full.”
“Oh,” Pastor Wendell spoke as if he’d just remembered it. “They have all the licenses and certifications required by the state. They just don’t take any funding.”
“If you’re not accountable to the state, who do you answer to?”
“Good question.” Ned smiled. “Pastor Wendell is our pastor, but we have a board of church leaders and business folks who monitor our operations.”
“This is really impressive.” Riva offered.
“Would you like to see the grounds? The classroom, the dorms and everything?”
“Very much.”
In all the days of her short life, Kiki couldn’t remember ever feeling so hopeless and trapped. Since she’d been unconscious when brought to the hospital, there had been no opportunity to formulate an escape plan.
The nurses and staff were friendly and compassionate enough but certainly not anyone she could trust to help her flee. With recovery well under way, the doctor had shared that it would be possible for her to leave soon. He thought that she’d be happy to hear it.
She wasn’t. With the social worker’s visit, it would only be a matter of time, and she’d be forced into another bad situation – if not the one she’d just fled. What was she going to do?
Even as the tour had begun, Riva could sense a different air about the place. There appeared none of the heaviness that often accompanied the home visits she’d performed.
As it finished, her mother turned to her and spoke quietly. “This is the answer.”
“The answer?” Riva replied, just as privately.
“To what you’ve been feeling.” Bess replied. “About helping these kids.”
She agreed.
They had toured the dining hall and kitchen, where the kids were preparing for the evening meal. With the activity of table setting and food prep, there had been laughing, joking and light conversation as the kids went about their tasks.
Kids studied, listened to music and socialized in the dorm areas while some worked with adults in the stables and around the animals.
It was all very… familial; like something you’d see in a happy home in an average neighborhood.
“What you’re doing here is impressive.” She turned her attention to Ned and Winnie. “How do the kids come here?”
“It varies.” Winnie replied. “Some hear about us from the kids at school.”
“Others are referred from youth ministries or from street outreaches by the local churches.” Ned continued.
“What about the foster care system?” Riva probed.
Ned shook his head. “Not usually. They have their own system, and they like to stay in it.”
“Or feel they have to.” Winnie added.
Riva nodded. “I work in that system.”
“Don’t get me wrong. We aren’t trying to compete or criticize…” Ned’s apologetic tone sincere, he added. “We’re doing what we’ve been called to do.”
“I’d like to help.” She replied. “If I can work it out, would you be willing to work with me — even as part of the system?”
“How?” Winnie wondered.
“I have a young girl. She has a history of running away.” Taking a deep breath, she went on. “I just placed her with one of our most successful families last week, but she ran. I don’t know why.”
“She came into the emergency room where I’m a nurse.” Bess explained. “Badly beaten but she wouldn’t speak until Riva came to see her. She reacted strongly to the idea of going back into foster care.”
“Would you be willing to take her?” Riva asked.
“I’d like to meet her.” Winnie answered. “But how could we take her without causing problems with the system?”
“Let me worry about that.” Riva replied. “I won’t endanger your program.”
“I can take you to meet her.” Bess offered.
Ned looked at his wife and nodded.
“Tomorrow morning work?” Winnie asked.
“Absolutely.”
Riva arrived early. She wanted to talk with Kiki about her proposal that she be placed at the ranch. The reaction to her entrance shocked her.
Kiki’s eyes widened and she tried to withdraw, curling in on herself but with nowhere to go. Her head wagged back and forth, eyes filling with tears as she mumbled. “No. No…”
“Kiki,” Riva said in a soothing tone as she approached the bed and reached out to touch the girl’s hand. “Don’t be afraid.”
Snatching her hand away, she gave out a shrieking laugh.
“What happened? Why do you keep running? Don’t you understand we’re just trying to help you?”
“You really don’t get it do you?” She hissed.
“Obviously not.” Riva admitted. “Why don’t you help me?”
“You know, my mother was a drug addict.”
That much she knew so she nodded.
“But even as scary as that was, being left with sketchy friends or in a room by myself for hours, sometimes days, you know what?”
Shaking her head, she waited.
“Never. Never. In all that time, she and the people she left me with, never let anyone touch me. Ever.”
Not sure she understood, Riva frowned. “What do you mean? These families are supposed to be taking care of you, protecting you.”
“You haven’t been at this very long, have you?”
That much was true. It had only been a couple of years. “No, but they’re supposed to be screened. You’re supposed to be safe. So why do you keep running?”
“Because I can’t stand it anymore. Porn-addicted men, who aren’t satisfied to just watch any more. Boys with bad breath, groping hands or worse….”
Now Riva’s eyes widened. “You mean…?”
Kiki let out a derisive sigh. “Kids are running. On the street, living in alleys and out of dumpsters. Or worse.” She thought of Nina.
Her head shaking involuntarily, Riva’s heart broke. What she’d been feeling, the frustration and futility intensified. Voice almost a whisper, she offered. “I’m so sorry, Kiki. Truly. I got into this because I wanted so badly to help.”
The young girl softened slightly. “They’re not helping very many people.”
She nodded. “I have someone I’d like you to meet.”
Her expression showed skepticism.
“Will you talk with her?” She took a breath as her mother entered.
“Winnie’s here.” Bess announced.
“I promise you, Kiki. If you don’t want to do this, I won’t force you. We can talk about options, if you’ll just meet with her.”
“Do I have a choice?”
“Sure. It’s outside the system so, yes.”
Curious now, she relaxed slightly. “Ok.”
After the meeting, Winnie found Riva in the waiting room. Shaking her head, her face appeared solemn.
Riva had thought it important to let Kiki make up her mind without her interference. Now she felt sorrow. Perhaps she could have helped convince her. Plaintive, she queried. “She said no?”
“Oh no, she wants to join the program.”
“But…?”
“I’m sorry.” Winnie offered, suddenly realizing how it appeared. “She’s a little uncertain about the faith aspect.”
“Really?”
A sigh. “She has absolutely no concept of the gospel. No exposure whatsoever.” Winnie continued. “It always shocks me how here, in America, a country founded on Judeo-Christian values, that so many kids just don’t have a clue.”
Riva nodded. To her own shame, she realized she had no idea what was really happening with today’s youth — more than the narrative put forth in the media.
“So how will it work?” Winnie asked. “Can you place her with us?”
“I’ll close her case on the DL.” She replied. “Not exactly kosher but it happens when kids fall out of the system once too often… or for other reasons.”
Winnie didn’t respond.
Riva kept thinking about what Kiki had shared all afternoon. She wondered. Could it really be as bad as that or was her experience just a disturbing but isolated case?
When she arrived home after work, she decided to do some research. What she found both horrified her and assaulted her heart.
She learned how vastly the foster care system was failing. Studies and statistics verified what Kiki had shared and more. It had been proven to be a hunting ground for predators and traffickers. If these vulnerable kids weren’t simply abducted and forced into servitude, they were lured either while still in it or when they found themselves aged out and with no life skills or options.
Setting an appointment on her calendar, she decided to see firsthand, by checking in on Kiki after a few weeks, if what she’d been told about Restoration Ranch was more than just good PR.
Bess hurried into the restaurant, searching the dining room for her daughter. She looked forward to their weekly Saturday lunch and hoped she wasn’t too late. Spying the table where Riva sat, she indicated to the hostess that her party was there and moved toward her.
“Hey, Mama.” Riva greeted as she approached.
With a heavy sigh, the older woman set her purse on the inside seat and took the one on the aisle. “Hey, baby.”
“Everything okay?”
“Oh, yeah.” She affirmed, nodding for emphasis. “Just busy in the ER.”
“How’s that going?”
With a smile, she answered. “You’re not the only one who likes making a difference.”
Riva grinned. “So I come by it honestly, I guess.”
The server came with water, menus and silverware. “I’ll be back shortly for your order.”
Both women smiled and nodded, opening their menus.
“So,” Bess began, perusing the choices in front of her. “You went to the ranch this week, right? How’s Kiki doing?”
“Oh, Mama.” Riva replied. “Like night and day. You would hardly know it was the same person I placed out there just a couple of weeks ago.”
“Really?”
“Yes. She’s put on a little weight — she looks healthy now. She smiles and looks really happy.”
“That’s great.”
“Winnie says she hasn’t come to faith yet but she’s open. She’s cooperative, and so good with the younger children.” Taking a breath, she continued. “I’m planning to work with Ned and Winnie.”
Bess put her menu down and looked at her daughter. “Are you going to quit your job?”
“Oh no, Mama.” She grinned. “But I have a plan.”
“Really? What?”
“I’ve talked to Pastor Wendell. I want to start a support group at the church for kids in foster care and those who’ve aged out.” She set her menu down. “Then, I want to coordinate with Ned and Winnie, recruit and develop people in the churches and those who support them to be trained according to their model and become host parents. Perhaps as time goes on, add additional locations like Restoration Ranch elsewhere, maybe even in other states.”
“Wow. That sounds fantastic.” Bess agreed. “What a vision.”
“Will you help, Mama?”
“Any way I can. As a single woman with a demanding job, I’m not sure I’d be a good foster parent, but I’m happy to join in and volunteer wherever you need me.”
“Sounds great, Mama. I’ve already talked to Ned and Winnie and they’re on board.” She took a deep breath. “If we don’t move now to reach and nurture these kids, what kind of future are we leaving for the next generation?”
Lisa Greco Filali 