“On Sunday? Norman, have you been drinking?” She really was not amused.

“Just trust me, for God's sake.”

“If I didn't, I wouldn't be here.” Josh looked at him suspiciously and drove the car to the courthouse on the other side of town from where Norman lived. But when they got there, Norman suddenly looked as though he knew what he was doing. He flashed a pass at the guard downstairs, the guard nodded and let them in. “Seventh floor,” he told the lone elevator man on duty, and when they got out of the elevator on the seventh floor, they turned left and then right and then left again and then suddenly they were in a brightly lit room with a uniformed matron at a desk and a policeman chatting to her, and suddenly Sam gave a gasp and a shriek and she raced toward him. It was Timmie, sitting in his wheelchair, with his teddy, looking filthy dirty again, but wearing his good suit and a grin.

He held her tight for a long time and she felt him tremble in her arms, and he said nothing and all she said was “I love you, Timmie… I love you, darling… it's all right…” She didn't know how long she would be able to see him, if it would be a minute or an hour or a day, but she didn't care, she would give him everything she had for as long as she could, for as long as they would let her. “It's all right…”

“My mom's dead.” He stared at Sam and said the words as though he didn't understand what they meant. And then Sam saw that there were deep circles under his eyes and another bruise on his neck.

“What happened?” She looked horrified, as much by what she saw as by what he had just said. “What do you mean?” But Norman came toward them then and took Sam's arm gently.

“She OD'ed, Sam, two days ago. The police found Timmie alone at the house last night.”

“Was she there?” Her eyes were wide as she held Timmie's hand.

“No, she was somewhere else. Timmie was alone at the apartment.” And then he took a deep breath and smiled at the woman who had become his friend. “They called the judge last night about Timmie, because they weren't sure if they should put him in juvie-juvenile hall,” he translated for her,”-and he called me. He said he'd meet us here this morning with Timmie's file. Sam, it's going to be all over.” There were tears in Norman's eyes.

“Right now?” Norman nodded. “Can he do that?”

“Yes, he can reverse his decision based on what has just occurred. Timmie won't have to go through all the business of becoming a ward of the court on an interim basis. He's yours, Sam!” He turned and looked at the small child in the wheelchair, holding Samantha's hand. “You've got your son.” It had been two weeks since Samantha had seen him wheeled, screaming, from the courtroom, and now he was hers. She reached out and pulled him onto her knees and held him, sobbing openly now and laughing and kissing him and stroking his hair, and slowly he began to understand and he held her and kissed her and then in a quiet moment he touched her face with his small grimy hand and said, “I love you, Mom.” They were words Samantha had ached to hear all her life.

The judge arrived half an hour later with the file he had collected from his office on the way, signed several papers, had Sam sign them, the matron witness them; Josh cried, Norm cried, she cried, the judge grinned, and Timmie waved his teddy bear at the judge with a broad grin as they wheeled into the elevator. “So long!” he shouted, and when the doors closed, the judge was laughing and crying too.

41

“And then I'm going to ride Daisy… and play with my train and my fire engine and-”