Perfect Glass by Laura Anderson Kurk

Author:Laura Anderson Kurk
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Playlist Fiction
Published: 2013-05-25T22:00:00+00:00

TWENTY-TWO

henry

Sam gave up waiting for me and walked over to the truck, leaving the officers in the courtyard. He sat in the passenger seat and flipped the radio on, tuning it to Radio Nicaragua, which faded in and out. Strains of Nicaragua’s version of pop floated into the news program, making the moment seem even stranger.

The host of the news show was interviewing an American missionary from Texas who did his best to keep his emotions in check as he answered questions about the day’s disappointing news for private orphanages. I sat up and leaned closer to the radio, forcing the Spanish into my confused brain. It sounded like a decision had been made to speed up the closing of certain orphanages, those which were noncompliant, outside of Managua.

I reached over to the radio and clicked the chatter off, silencing the anxious voices. Sam leaned his head back on the truck seat.

“John says we’ve followed every rule, even the asinine ones,” I said. “We’ll be found compliant and get more time.”

Sam, obviously nervous, massaged the palm of one hand with his thumb. “No, Henry, that’s not going to happen. These men are here with lists of our kids. Janice called John and he’s catching a flight now, trying to get here in time to say goodbye.”

“Did they actually find homes for all our kids?” I said. “These kids? The ones no one wanted?”

“They’re still working on finding Equis a place because there’s some question about a relative.” Sam shifted in the truck so he could keep the strangers in his field of vision. “Raf’s a different story. The Ministry of Family is trying to decide what to do with him.”

“Aidia?” I said.

Sam rubbed his chin. “Did you know Kate and John filed papers to legally adopt Aidia a couple of months ago? The committee is trying to locate her birth mother, who seems to have vanished. She has to sign off on all the documents.”

I let that small, bright news soak in. Aidia could be my niece, for real.

“I hope it happens,” I said. I knew, though, there’d been trouble in the past when Americans tried to adopt kids from Nicaragua. The timing might make it impossible.

About that time, the sound of gravel crunching under tires interrupted the quiet night. The crickets stopped their song abruptly. Sam and I watched two white passenger vans turn in and roll to a stop next to the police cars. The drivers both stayed put behind the wheels, watching the scene for trouble.

“This is it,” Sam said. He leaned forward and cradled his head in his hands. He prayed, his lips moving soundlessly through pleas that probably sounded as desperate as the ones in my own head.

When we joined the officers, one of them handed me a clipboard. He pointed to names that had been highlighted with yellow. “Tonight,” he said. “These, en amarillo.”

“Four girls, three boys,” I said. Each highlighted name had a twelve-digit number next to it, which must correspond to the case file containing their new address.

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