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“It looks in fair condition,” he said as they walked the winding, paved road. “I wonder why it was made in a circle.”
“I did some research on this old base.” As they walked together in the warm sunshine, Dahlia basked in a sense of camaraderie. It was nice to have someone to help her with the go-kart project. Of course, Grant wasn’t just someone.
“And you learned?” he prompted.
“There was a lot of suspicion in the fifties. Everyone feared invasion by the Russians so the airstrip here was maintained. When the base closed, they dismantled the long, straight runway so no enemy plane could land. I guess they figured this circular bit wouldn’t be of use to anyone.”
“It will make a good go-kart track,” he said, studying the weeds and grasses that threatened to take over. “It’s good that this area is fenced. No wandering polar bears. But it sure will need some cleanup.”
“That’s where the boys come in,” she said with a grin. “They can put in some sweat equity. I’m hoping you’ll help them see my vision.” She winked at him then stopped, surprised by the freedom she felt with him.
“I’ll try.” Grant blinked then glanced away. He resumed walking, obviously preoccupied.
“Is something wrong, Grant?”
“I was just thinking that I need a better way to get through to the boys about what their futures will be like if they make no changes. Mere words don’t seem to impress these guys.”
Dahlia thought about it for a moment. “Have you seen Miss Piggy yet?” Dahlia told him.
“What is a Miss Piggy?” Grant laughed, looking dubious.
“Miss Piggy is a C-46 aircraft. She’s called Miss Piggy because she was able to hold so much freight. Years ago she actually did transport pigs on board.
She was to fly from Churchill to Chesterfield Inlet but lost oil pressure in her left engine shortly after departing Churchill. She crash-landed, and Miss Piggy became a tourist attraction, sitting there gutted on the rocks.”
“Interesting,” he agreed. “But how does this teach the boys?”
“The load was probably too heavy. Later they speculated it wasn’t properly checked. That’s likely what caused the crash.” She raised an eyebrow. “How would you like to be the guy who loaded that plane? A mistake like that—” She let it trail away.
“It could have cost lives,” he finished, nodding. “I see where you’re going,” Grant said. “Being responsible in everything so you don’t cost people their lives, doing your job in every detail, not sloughing off just to get a paycheck—it would be a good lesson for the boys.” He checked his watch. “I’m supposed to meet with them in twenty minutes. Want to come?”
“You wouldn’t mind?” she asked, thrilled to be included.
“Not at all. Are you done here?”
“I am. It’ll be nice to have an excuse to go to Lives and see Arlen.”
Grant was silent as they walked back to her vehicle. When they arrived, he stopped and laid his hand on her arm. Her skin began to tingle at his touch.
“I want to mention something, Dahlia. About Arlen.”
The serious tone of his voice made Dahlia steel herself.
“Arlen’s got a lot of pent-up emotions. He wants to lash out. You’re making yourself a perfect target for his anger by being so available to him.” Grant’s eyes held hers.
“I just want to be his friend,” she said, blushing under his scrutiny.
“Arlen may not be ready to be friends, with anybody.” His gaze softened, chasing away the chill of the afternoon. “Dahlia, this kid—he’s not in a place where he can appreciate that you’re trying to help him. He’s locked up in his own painful world. You might have to back off for a while.”
“I care about him,” she said stubbornly. “How can I not feel that?”
“I’m not saying don’t care.” Grant smiled. “Just protect yourself.”
“How?” she demanded.
“Don’t be so—” He searched for the right word. “Vulnerable,” he said at last. “He’s getting his kicks from seeing your disappointment when he slights you or ignores you. Don’t focus on him alone. Treat him as one of the group and if he doesn’t respond, ignore him.”
Dahlia hated hearing those words and for a moment, she wanted to argue. But Grant was a counselor and part of her knew he was right. They got in her car and headed toward Lives.
“I don’t want Arlen to hurt you,” Grant said breaking the silence that had fallen between them. “But he seems to want to. For some reason I think hurting you helps him, maybe takes the focus off of what’s really underneath all that pain.”
“I’ll try to be more blasé with him,” she said at last. “But I’m not giving up. I still want to adopt him.”
“I know, but—” Grant was obviously struggling with something. Finally, he said, “He has a mom, Dahlia.”
Dahlia was surprised to hear this. She’d thought Arlen was all alone.
“She made him a ward of the court,” Grant added.
“So he doesn’t really have a family, and his mother obviously isn’t meeting his needs,” Dahlia argued. “So maybe I can be his refuge.”
Grant frowned. He opened his mouth, but Dahlia cut him off.
“I am going to have this boy in my life. Somehow. And you can’t talk me out of it.”
Grant nodded, but his face grew very serious, as if he was deeply troubled by her words.
Everything Grant had said depressed her. But Arlen was exactly like her brother. He needed her and she was going to be there for him. She would not fail again. Grant made her feel as if her dream of adopting Arlen would never come true. And it had to. Because that was part of God’s plan for her, that’s why He’d laid this particular boy on her heart. She knew it just as she knew making the go-kart track was the task He’d given her to help the boys and prove herself strong.
When they pulled up to Lives, she stepped out of the truck and walked to the front door. She entered the building in front of Grant. All her apprehension melted at the sound of the boys’ laughter and the twins’ high-pitched squeals.
It was easy for Grant to warn her off—he had two amazing little girls in his life.
She had no one. But she would soon, somehow. She had to.
* * *
“How are you, Arlen?”
Grant gritted his teeth at the sound of Dahlia’s ingratiating tone. Hadn’t the woman heard anything he’d said? He held his breath, waiting for the boy’s sour retort. Arlen didn’t respond.
Grant stepped into the kitchen, wondering why. He caught his breath at the sight of Arlen seated at the table, with a twin on either side. He was folding paper into an airplane. A huge smile transformed his usually surly face. Grant caught his breath when Glory reached up to touch his cheek.
Don’t hurt her, please don’t hurt her.
But Arlen’s smile only grew as he smoothed the mess of curls off her face. “Didn’t you comb your hair this morning, Glory?” he said in a very tender voice.
“Daddy tried, but he’s not very good at it.”
Grant’s face burned at this condemnation.
“She gets knots,” Grace explained. “Daddy doesn’t like hurting her so he bundles her hair up like that. But it never stays. Are you going to make me an airplane, too, Arlen?”
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