Fred lowered his eyes. “I told Joey about the letter when no staff were around, and I let him use my cell phone to call you. Then one of the women at the home told me a lady had come asking for him and left in tears. I put two and two together.”
He spread his hands apologetically. “If I’ve gotten your hopes up for nothing, I’m sorry.” Eleanor reached across the table and gripped his hands. “No. You’ve given me more than anyone has in years. Thank you.”
Fred nodded once. “Be by the fence near the old gazebo tomorrow morning. I’ll find a way to bring Joey out there.”
The next morning, wrapped in fog and nerves, Eleanor was at the rusted fence an hour early. She stared into the empty yard so intently she didn’t notice the bushes to one side move. Then a thin, pale face with dark eyes and messy hair appeared between the bars.
“Grandma—it’s me, Joey. I’m here.” His whisper kept breaking with little sobs. Eleanor rushed to the fence and reached both hands through the cold metal. “Joey—sweetheart. I’m here. I’m going to get you out of here. Just hang on a little longer, okay? Don’t be scared.”
From that day on, everything moved at a dizzying pace. After enough pressure and enough questions, the home finally allowed supervised visits. Eleanor split her time between seeing Joey and going from one child services office to another with a lawyer, trying to untangle the legal process of bringing him home.
As part of the case review, both she and Joey were required to submit DNA samples to establish biological relationship. Weeks later, Eleanor stood in a clinic hallway holding the results in shaking hands. The report stated plainly that Joey was not her biological grandson. Genetic relationship excluded.
The words hit like a physical blow. How could that be? Had they all built a life around a mistake? Was this child—this boy who had already worked his way into her heart—not Katie’s son after all?
And then what? Was she supposed to sit him down, explain laboratory language to a nine-year-old, and walk away? Pack her bag, go home, and leave him in that institution because a test said he was not blood? The thought alone made her sick.
She had truly believed she saw Katie in him—in his eyes, in the shape of his face, in the way he watched adults before deciding whether to trust them. Now a sheet of paper said otherwise. Still, after the first shock passed, Eleanor made the only decision she could live with. She called Mike and told him everything.
