The Advocate (The Advocate Series) by Teresa Burrell Page A

‘Honey.’ I’m not your honey. I’m not their honey. I’m not anybody’s honey,” she yelled as she stood up. She wiggled around and twisted her hands as she paced back and forth.
    “Alexis, I’m so sorry. I forgot you didn’t like to be called that. It’s a term I use a lot. I’ll try not to use it around you. Are you okay?”
    Alexis stared into Sabre’s eyes. Her expression screamed for help, but Sabre didn’t have a clue what to do for her. Alexis reached up to wipe her face with the back of her hand, but not before Sabre detected a teardrop running down her cheek. Abruptly, like a salamander changing colors with his surroundings, her demeanor changed and she started to chatter.
    “Come on Jamie, we need to go now. It’s almost suppertime. We need to get back so we don’t miss supper.” She looked up at Sabre. “Jamie needs to eat so he can stay healthy. We’re having macaroni and cheese, fruit, and chips tonight. And we’ll have orange sherbet for dessert. I like macaroni and cheese. I hope the fruit is peaches. I like the peaches. Jamie likes them, too. Sometimes they have fruit cocktail. That stuff’s nasty.” Alexis babbled, slipping more and more into her comfort zone. Sabre knew to stop pushing; she only hoped she hadn’t gone too far already.
    She walked Sabre and Jamie back to the front desk and rang for the attendant who came right out. Alexis turned to Sabre, her mouth turned up almost in a smile. “Good night, Miss Sabre. Please do come again.”

12
     
     
    Gaylord Murdock arose early Saturday morning so he could put his things away in his newly rented apartment. It felt good to be out of the hotel and to have his own place. Planning to have Alexis home on Monday, he wanted her room ready for her. There would be no more visiting her at a facility where someone monitored every conversation. The court had ordered supervised visitation, but Monday that should all change. He was sure of it. He knew they had nothing on him and Alexis would come home, maybe even Jamie, too.
    He scurried about, readying the apartment for the social worker to evaluate. Although the apartment rented as “furnished,” it contained minimal furniture: a sofa and chair in the living room, a little dinette with four chairs in the dining room, and in each bedroom a full-size bed and chest of drawers. The old, unstable furniture felt like a cheap hotel. Gaylord longed for the beautiful antiques he had grown up with, but he could get by in this temporary situation since he didn’t plan to stay around long. Once he had Alexis, his attorney said it wouldn’t take long to gain custody of Haley, the baby. When he had both of his daughters, he’d leave this awful place. California had been nothing but trouble.
    At 10:01 a.m. Marla knocked on his door. Gaylord was pleased she arrived at the scheduled time. On previous meetings, she’d been from ten minutes to an hour late, a habit for which he had little tolerance.
    “Good morning, Marla,” Gaylord greeted her, as he opened the door. “Welcome to my humble abode.” He smiled, and made a slight bow and a hand gesture indicating she should enter.
    Marla returned his smile. “Good morning, Gaylord. How are you this morning?”
    “I’m well,” he said, “but I’ll be even better when I have my babies back home with me. Thanks so much for coming out on a Saturday to evaluate the apartment. I’m sure you have plenty of other things you’d rather be doing today.”
    “It’s not a problem. I’d just be working in my office, playing catch-up as usual.”
    Marla set her briefcase on the dinette table, opened it up, and took out a notepad to take notes. “Do you mind if I just look around?”
    “Not at all. Is there anything you need me to show you? What can I do? Oh, where are my manners? Grandma Murdock is probably turning over in her grave at my lack of southern hospitality. May I get you a cup of coffee or maybe some lemonade?”
    “No, thank you. I’m