The McRae Series 01 - Twelve Days Sam and Rachel

dollop on each slice. She got out the milk, asked Rachel for glasses, and when Rachel provided them, she poured milk for the children and settled them on stools at the breakfast bar. "We'll just be in the other room, all right?"
    Zach obviously had no problem with that. He was digging into the pumpkin bread, the whipped cream drizzling down the sides, just as Miriam promised. Emma looked more cautious, more aware of what was going on.
    "We'll be right back," Miriam assured her.
    Rachel followed her to the living room. She shoved the baby at Miriam and was so mad she was shaking. "What do you think you're doing?"
    "I know you and Sam are still smarting over losing Will. I know you're still worried about him, Rachel, and I'm sorry, dear. I am so sorry."
    "Sorry? We loved him, Miriam. I can't sleep at night for wondering what's happening to him now. What his so-called mother's doing to him."
    "She hasn't missed a beat so far. I checked this morning with Will's teacher, with his mother's counselor, her employer. So far, she's doing great."
    "So far? What does that mean?" Rachel was relieved, but still so angry, so worried. "It means nothing, Miriam. Nothing except that the pressure hasn't gotten to her yet, or she hasn't let some awful man move in with them yet. Or that she's still worried enough that someday she might actually lose Will for good that she hasn't let herself mess up yet, but she will. You know she will, and she'll hurt him. I'm so scared that she's going to hurt him."
    "I'm sorry. Rachel, if it were up to me, Will would be with you and Sam. You know that. But so far, no one's appointed me God of Baxter County. Judge Forrester's that, and he thinks Will's mother deserves another chance."
    "I hate this," Rachel said. "I hate it, and I can't do it again. You know that. Sam told you that."
    "I know. Believe me, if there was anything else I could do, I would. But I don't have anyplace else to take these kids."
    "Oh, come on, Miriam. Don't try that with me."
    "I don't. They're siblings, we think. All three of them. A nearly teenage girl—no one wants teenage girls from troubled homes. A preschooler and a baby. The baby's about a year old. She's crawling, and she's into everything. Before long, she'll be walking. Zach is an absolute joy, but he's a boy and he's five. He's a barrel of energy. He needs so much time and affection and reassurance."
    "Well he's not going to get it from me," Rachel said.
    "I don't have a home that can take all three of them. I'd be pushed, as is, to find three different foster homes to take one each," Miriam said. "It's the middle of December, Rachel. Everyone's swamped in December. With the Christmas festival starting, and people who've made plans to get away for the holiday, people who are sick. You know that awful flu's going around. We were stretched to the limits before, and now we have all this to contend with."
    "I can't help you."
    "I'll have to split them up. Can you imagine what that's going to do to them? We've been looking for a place for them since late last night. They slept on the couch and in the chair in my office while I phoned everybody I know trying to find a place for them. They're tired, and all they have left is each other. The only time I've seen them really panic is when I admitted that I might not be able to place them in the same home."
    "Miriam, I can't do this," Rachel said more firmly.
    As if Rachel hadn't said a word, Miriam went right on. "We found them at a motel on the edge of town. The Drifter. Who knows how long they'd been there. Three days or so, we think. Their mother abandoned them."
    "Abandoned?" Rachel asked, her sense of outrage rising above her sense of self-protection.
    "Yes. The kids wouldn't say anything, but finally we found the man who checked them in. He remembers a woman he assumed was their mother, but he hasn't seen her since she paid for the room three days before."
    "How could anyone leave a five-year-old and a baby in a motel room for three days with a little girl?"
    "Emma," Miriam said. "She's eleven. Almost twelve. The boy's Zach, and the baby's name is Grace."
    Rachel's face began to crumble. "How could you bring me a baby?"
    "You and Sam are still on the list of approved foster homes, from when you took Will. I know you said you didn't want to do this anymore, but I'm desperate, Rachel. You know how strained the whole system gets this time of year. People just fall apart over the holidays. If you could just help me out until