He had seen too many people celebrate a victory before understanding what it required.
When he told Hector about the review, Hector nodded.
“Good news.”
“Some good news.”
“You always have to find the dark cloud.”
“Somebody has to remember that the storm isn't over.”
Hector leaned against the workbench.
“You think the department will fight us?”
“I think people defend themselves when they feel threatened.”
“Even when they're wrong?”
“Especially then.”
Vincent looked toward the office window.
He had watched men destroy their lives rather than admit they had made a mistake. He had done it himself more than once.
He understood the impulse.
It was easier to attack the person holding the evidence than to confront what the evidence revealed.
That afternoon, Margaret received a message from the department's attorney.
The department would agree to increased visitation, but it wanted a comprehensive assessment of the Harpers' ability to provide long-term care.
It also wanted a transition plan that included cooperation with the foster family.
Margaret considered the terms reasonable.
She discussed them with Walter and Evelyn.
“We'll do whatever they ask,” Walter said.
“Within reason,” Margaret replied. “You shouldn't agree to anything you don't understand.”
Evelyn nodded.
“We just want Rosie to be safe.”
“That's the right priority.”
The following week, the Harpers completed medical evaluations, financial reviews, and a home safety assessment.
Walter agreed to reduce his repair work to part-time hours. Evelyn arranged physical therapy for her knees and discussed ways to manage her arthritis.
They also met with a family support counselor who explained the practical challenges of caring for a grieving seven-year-old.
The process was exhausting.
It was also useful.
For the first time, the Harpers had a structured plan for the future.
They learned how to request respite care, how to access school support, and how to manage the emotional difficulties Rosie might experience as she adjusted to another home.
They learned that loving a child was not always the same as knowing how to help her.
And they learned that accepting support did not diminish their role as grandparents.
One evening, Walter sat at the kitchen table reviewing the care plan.
“I used to think being a good parent meant handling everything yourself,” he said.
Evelyn looked up from her knitting.
“Your mother thought that, too.”
“Maybe that's where I learned it.”
She smiled.
“Then perhaps it's time we learned something different.”
Walter nodded.
He looked toward the spare bedroom.
The little bed was made. The bookshelf was assembled. Rosie's drawings covered the refrigerator.
They had done everything they could to prepare.
Now they had to wait for someone else to decide whether preparation was enough.
The department approved a trial home visit.
Rosie would spend four hours at the Harpers' apartment on Maple Street, accompanied by a family support worker. If the visit went well, additional visits could be arranged.
When Walter received the news, he read the letter three times.
Evelyn sat down abruptly.
“Four hours?”
“Four hours.”
“At our house?”
“At our house.”
She covered her face.
Walter laughed and cried at the same time.
They spent the next two days preparing.
Evelyn baked a small cake.
Walter checked the smoke detector, tightened the loose kitchen cabinet, and installed a night-light in Rosie's bedroom.
He also bought a box of pancake mix.
Rosie had always loved his Sunday pancakes, and he wanted to make them during her visit.
The morning arrived bright and cold.
At ten o'clock, a county vehicle pulled into the parking lot.
Rosie climbed out wearing her red coat.
She carried a small backpack and looked uncertain as she approached the building.
Walter opened the apartment door before she reached it.
“Hello, sweetheart.”
Rosie stared at him.
Then she ran into his arms.
“Grandpa!”
He held her tightly.
“Welcome home.”
The words escaped before he could stop them.
For a moment, he feared he had made a mistake.
But the family support worker simply smiled and allowed Rosie to enter.
Evelyn stood in the kitchen, crying.
Rosie ran to her.
“Grandma! Your house smells like cake!”
“That's because there's cake.”
“Can I have some?”
“After lunch.”
Rosie groaned dramatically.
Walter laughed.
The first hour passed in a blur of familiar things.
Rosie explored the spare bedroom, found the knitted rabbit, and arranged her toys on the shelf. She examined the refrigerator drawings and asked whether Grandpa had fixed the faucet in their old apartment.
Walter admitted that he had never managed to fix it properly.
Rosie giggled.
Then they made pancakes.
The family support worker sat at the kitchen table, observing without interfering.
Rosie helped stir the batter. Walter let her pour it into the pan while Evelyn supervised from a safe distance.
The first pancake came out lopsided.
The second burned slightly.
The third was almost perfect.
Rosie placed it on her plate and looked very pleased with herself.
“It's the best pancake ever.”
Walter raised an eyebrow.
“Better than the ones I made last time?”
She nodded.
“Much better.”
He pretended to look wounded.
Evelyn laughed.
For a while, the apartment filled with ordinary happiness.
But the visit was not without difficulty.
After lunch, Rosie asked whether she could stay overnight.
Walter looked toward the support worker.
“Not today, sweetheart.”
Rosie's expression changed.
“Why?”
“Because the grown-ups are still making plans.”
“But I want to stay.”
“I know.”
“I want to sleep in my room.”
Walter knelt beside her.
“Your room will be here when the time is right.”
Rosie began to cry.
“I don't want to go back.”
Evelyn sat beside her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders.
“We know, darling.”