Blessed Child by Ted Dekker Page B

the priest. The revelation should have at least caused a spark. Certainly more than this simple even-toned question. And it was a good question at that. He had no tangible evidence that they were not suitable. It would have to be the judge’s good sense at seeing them at the hearing.
    â€œHe doesn’t like you,” Jason said. “And frankly I don’t think you like him.”
    The priest leaned back and grinned through a chuckle. “Dear man, you are far too sentimental. We are raising good citizens, not winning lifelong friends. This child needs good rearing, not hugs and kisses. Isn’t that right, Martha?”
    The woman shot the boy a stern stare. “He is positively insubordinate and undisciplined.”
    â€œAnd I suppose you think it’s your job to bring him into submission, is that it?” Leiah demanded.
    â€œPlease watch your tone,” the Father cautioned. “You are liable to upset the boy. Hardly what we need.”
    Jason stood to his feet, flush with heat. “That’s it! We’re taking him!”
    â€œTaking him? You can’t just take him. He’s in my custody. Sit down.”
    â€œHe may be in your custody now, chump. But until a judge gives you guardianship, you don’t have squat.”
    The priest chuckled and his lips bunched smugly. Martha’s mouth had settled into her first smile. “I’m afraid you don’t understand, young man. I’ve already seen the judge and been granted guardianship. Whether you like it or not, he’s under my care for at least some months, and there’s nothing short of kidnapping that you can do about it. You really are here to help me, not fight me. Do you understand this?”
    Jason’s mind spun. They’d already had the hearing? Leiah’s eyes had grown round. The boy was still engrossed in his fingers. “This morning . . . ?”
    â€œYes, of course. Now please sit down.”
    Jason sat on the edge of the couch. The man was right; there was nothing he could do if guardianship had already been granted. Yesterday he could have intercepted the process, but not now. Not without a prolonged legal battle. Leiah had lowered her head, but she could not hide the flexing of her jaw. She understood clearly enough that it was Jason’s reluctance to take the boy that had brought them here.
    â€œNow, you can either help me or not. That much you can choose,” Nikolous said. He stood and straightened his tie. “I really must be going. If you are willing to help Caleb by visiting him each day at the one-o’clock hour for a week, it would be appreciated. If not, we will find other ways to encourage his cooperation.”
    â€œListen to you!” Leiah cried. “You talk like he’s some kind of machine you’re trying to get working. He’s a boy, for crying out loud!”
    Father Nikolous’s lips fell flat. “A yes or no will be adequate.”
    If Leiah were able to translate her thoughts into action, they’d be giving the morgue a call, Jason thought.
    â€œYes,” he said.
    Leiah spun to him, glaring.
    â€œHe’s right, Leiah. I’ll make a few calls, but it’s probably all we can do.”
    A silence settled over them, and Father Nikolous sighed with satisfaction. “Don’t worry. Martha is wonderful with children. And we hope you will be able to persuade the boy to be a little more congenial.”
    He nodded at Martha, who stood and walked over to the boy. She took his arm and pulled him up.
    Leiah held his hand. “Hold on! We just got here. We can’t spend more time with him?”
    â€œNo, I’m afraid not. Not today.” Nikolous motioned to the hallway, and Martha took the boy, who followed like an obedient puppy. Leiah stared after them, dumbstruck. The caretaker and Caleb had taken ten steps when Nikolous stopped them.
    â€œWait, Martha. Let’s make sure they understand me.” He