....  

There was new tension threatening to strangle the joyful air of the house after Christmas, and it had nothing to do with my own late night struggles and boyhood confusion.  My foster father wore an entirely new expression just for me.

Richard had fewer words for me, fewer criticisms or commands spoken out loud.  Yet, his judgment of me was in progress every second of every day.  A general look of disdain was all I would see on his face whenever he looked my way, a look of warning.

I felt his eyes on me, zeroing in on the back of my head and burning holes into my skull.  I felt his displeasure while he silently watched my every move—especially when Marie was also near.

But I was growing older, more secure.  With every new day that passed, I was more comfortable in my own skin, more certain that I was a good boy, a loved boy, that I had earned my place in Richard's home, even if against his own will.

Maybe it was my own confidence or the love and affection that my foster father witnessed his own wife held for me that made Richard's distrust of me build.  And then—when I was so young—it would've been impossible for me to realize what a grown man, so strong and cold like Richard, could possibly despise—even fear—in a small boy like me.  Maybe Richard had the power to foresee what neither Marie nor I possibly could.

Despite the weight of my foster father's condemning presence, I continued to count all the days that I was lucky enough to bask in the sunlight of Marie's smile.

It beamed from the broad front porch of the Anderson home—my home—every day when I walked home from school.  She waited there.  For me.  She was always there for me.

One afternoon, after I hungrily ate my way through a saucer topped with fresh-baked oatmeal raisin cookies, my foster mother first hinted at something special that just might occur on my upcoming birthday—that would occur, because she promised it to me.

"Your birthday's coming up," Marie mentioned casually, satisfied by the sight of me savoring every morsel of the after-school treat she'd baked just for me.

"Mmm, hmm," I mumbled around the big bite I'd just taken.

"Oh, dear," Marie giggled.  "You've got a raisin stuck to your teeth.  Right there in the middle of your smile."

I quickly dabbed at my teeth with a paper napkin.

"So..." she continued, still smiling at the embarrassing sight I'd unwittingly flashed her, "I wonder what a thirteen-year-old boy wants for his birthday."  Her beautiful, oval face rested in her hand, casually propped up by her arm resting on the dining table as she sat next to me, her gentle eyes offering a nearly transparent view into her very soul.

I finished the tasty morsel in my mouth, dabbed with my napkin again.  "I'm not thirteen yet."

"I know... but you will be.  And thirteen is a pretty big deal.  You'll be a teenager."  Her eyes took on a sudden sheen of thoughtfulness.  "You're growing up so fast."

My young mind detected that tone of sadness, but I didn't know how to respond.

"Whatever happened to my little Daniel?" she asked playfully.

"I'm right here!"  My words sounded much more childish than I intended.

"Oh, I know, but one day, you'll be gone, and—"

It must have been the look on my face that stopped her and made her feel the need to rush out with an apology.

"Oh, I didn't mean... Oh, Daniel!"

The hug was a surprise.  I had a third of another cookie in my mouth already.

Her body was warm and wonderful, all soft and sweetly scented, her hair silkier than ever.  Then, she pulled herself away again, and I was left wanting more.

"No, no... I hope you never go.  I mean, I know you have to grow up, and you'll be old enough to live your own life one day.  And I know you're only in our foster care, but..."  Her hand flew up to cover her mouth.  "Oh, no, I didn't mean that either!  Oh, gosh.  I should just be quiet."

I hated those words, that "foster" term.  I hated being reminded who I really was, what I really was in that family.  I wanted to pretend—forever and ever—that I was somebody else.  Someone luckier.

"Come here, Daniel."

I gulped down the cookie in my mouth and scooted my chair out from beneath the table.  I stood next to Marie.

Her arms wrapped around me, gently bent me to fit closely against her.  She snuggled her head against mine and whispered at my small hand she'd taken in hers.

"Remember what I promised to you?  Do you?  My promise is everything.  You never have to doubt that.  You'll stay here with us as long as you like, as long as... is right.  For you."  Marie let go of my hand and looked directly at me.  She gazed into my eyes as if watching something there only she could see.  "But you have to grow up, don't you?  Oh, and I'll miss you when you do." 

The subtle change in her voice proved that she meant it.

"I don't want to go," I said.  "I... don't want to grow up."

"Oh, yes!  Yes, you do, Daniel!  You have your whole life ahead of you.  Wonderful things that I want to hear all about!  You're such a bright boy, such a sweetheart, my Daniel.  You're my s—"

My foster mother stopped herself again.  I wished for the day that I was grown up enough—if that's what it took—to hear and know her complete thoughts, to be trusted.  ....