"Why the fuck did the school think this kid was deaf then?" Emery shook her head. She'd learned quickly that kids fall through the cracks, sometimes at the fault of no one. There just wasn't an advocate for the kid to make sure he was getting what he needed.

"This kid's mother seems to be an asshole," she said to no one in particular.

She made notes through the entire file in order to be prepared for the fight to get this kid what he was entitled to and what he needed to be able to learn.

On a Friday night a few weeks later, Emery was bored and burned out on work, so she decided to walk over to Mansion and eat dinner. This was a big deal for her; she hadn't been out without Rachel since she'd moved to Savannah. Standing in her closet, she scanned through the clothes she'd brought with her and the few she'd purchased. Emery pulled a black and white polka dot dress off the rack. She paired it with her leather jacket and black boots, straightened her now dirty blond hair that fell down her back in sheets, and put makeup on. She was Emma Simpson. Gorgeous and ready to go out on the town.

Emery walked the few blocks to Mansion. When she walked in the restaurant, it was full and the bar area was packed as well, but she sidled up to the bar and ordered a vodka tonic. Then she leaned in so the bartender could hear her. "Can I eat at the bar?"

"Sure, honey," the bartender said with a pronounced drawl that she thought must be for the tourists.

She smiled as he placed her glass, silverware, and a menu over a white cloth napkin at the end of the bar. Carefully, she managed to maneuver around all the bodies that blocked her way and perched on the edge of the high chair. She was in awe as she took in her surroundings. It was a beautiful historic brick building built in the 1800s. It sat overlooking Forsyth Park and made her wonder if the building had been someone's home prior to becoming a hotel.

"You meeting someone here, chickadee?" The bartender had made his way back over to where she sipped her drink. He had coiffed blond hair, like from the fifties, and turquoise glasses.

"Nope, just wanted a nice meal and was tired of being home," she answered honestly.

"You sure you ain't meeting a man? You're quite attractive." He pronounced it with the emphasis on the last syllable, holding it for three beats.

She grinned. "You are too."

"Where you from, my chickadee?"

"Atlanta," she answered. What was with her and honesty all of a sudden? She guessed that she felt safe, being anonymous, the bartender not knowing her. She'd probably never come in here again.

"Me too," the bartender said, his face filling with joy. "What part?"

"Dunwoody, you?"

"Grant Park," he answered and put his forearms on the bar facing her. "What can I get for you?"

"I think I want the blue cheese filet. Medium, please."

"Anything else?" He eyed her curiously. "The onion rings are to die for."

"Okay, I'll have those." She closed the menu and reached across the bar, handing it to him. "Oh, and A Long Goodnight, please."

"Ooooooo, honey, that's my favorite drink. I had to talk the manager into putting it on the menu." He sashayed a bit as he walked to the computer and looked back at her. "I'm Daphne, by the way."

"Emma," she replied and sipped the remainder of her drink.

A few minutes later Daphne brought over her drink. "I wish you a long goodnight, girl." He nodded toward the drink as he set it front of her.

"Oh, that's not happening," she muttered.

"And why not? A fine young thing like yourself..."

Silence.

"Well, don't you worry, sugar, you'll find the right man. You're as cute as a button."

Daphne walked back down the bar toward some other customers and Emery sipped her new drink. It was amazing. The combination of strawberry liquor, rum, and lemon soda made it refreshing and not overbearing. She could totally get drunk off these. That's what she planned on doing, so she signaled to Daphne for another.

An older man sat down next to her and nodded to Daphne. After he ordered, he smiled at Emery. Her insides incinerated in fear.

"How are you?" he asked, and began making small talk. He was being polite, but all she saw was Phil.

Emery blinked at him, turning to focus on Daphne coming back with her third drink in less than thirty minutes.

"Here you go, miss. Sir." Daphne winked at Emery and then returned to making drinks.

"I'm here on business, you?" the man asked her.

Chills ran down her spine and she gulped her drink, threw sixty dollars on the bar, and ran out. She was making her way down the steps when Daphne called out "Emma!" with the emphasis on the last syllable.

Emery turned around, watching as he rushed down the stairs and handed her a carryout bag.

"I know you didn't forget your food, chickadee," he said, his eyes full of concern.

"Thanks," she muttered. "Did I leave you enough?"

"You did, with a nice tip."

"Sorry."

"Nothing to be sorry about, little one, I saw how he looked at you. That's nasty." Daphne bent his frame to where he was eye to eye with Emery. "Sometimes you just have to leave."

Didn't she know that... She gave him a weak smile and a wave and walked the four blocks back to her place. That'd been a fucking disaster, but at least she'd had drinks with other people in the room. She was starting to feel like an alcoholic, with all the solitary drinking. The smell from the steak and onion rings made her mouth water. Emery sighed in resignation as she picked up her step to go home and eat alone again. Always alone.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE.

Cracks

She and Lucas were on their way to one of the occupational therapist appointments she'd scheduled. As they got out of the car and walked toward the office building, she took his hand. He stiffened at the contact and she dropped his hand, not wanting to make him uncomfortable.

"Okay, so I've been thinking," she said casually. "I've changed my mind about my female superhero."

He looked at her with what looked like awe, his big brown eyes widening at her words. "Who?" He signed. Then he grabbed her hand again and she had to stop herself from crying.

She stopped on the sidewalk and looked at his innocent face. "Before I tell you, is there any way you could try to explain to me why you don't talk?"

He shook his head and walked past her. Emery knew this was a gamble. All the research she'd done about kids said to embrace whatever form of communication you could get.

"She-Hulk," she called to his back.

His shoulders bounced a little with laughter and shook his head. He turned to her with a scowl. "She's ugly," he signed. "Why would you change from Wonder Woman to her?"

"Well, she's a District Attorney, so she fights criminals in her real life, and then she turns into She-Hulk and actually kicks people's butts...I like that."

Emery reached Lucas and opened the door for them, then ushered Lucas in first. She was happy to be with him, almost falling into the seat next to Lucas after she signed him in. Some of the kids on her caseload were difficult to be around, either based on their circumstances or their behavior. Lucas was a borderline pleasure.

She bumped her shoulder into his. "So, how was school?"

A cloud passed over Lucas's too skinny face. He shrugged.

Emery grabbed a Z-bar she'd started keeping in her purse for her kids. "Here, I'm sure you're hungry."

Lucas took it from her hand with a grin; she'd brought his favorite kind.

A guy stepped through the door and his eyes locked on Emery's. It was an intense examination and it made her blush. "Lucas," he called.

"I'll wait here, okay?" Emery asked.

Lucas nodded, shoving the entire bar into his mouth before he walked back with what she assumed to be the therapist. She pulled out a book and waited for the session to be over.

"Ms. Simpson?" a man's voice called after about an hour.

Emery looked up from her book to find the same pair of brown eyes piercing her again. "Yes?"

"Could you come back here for a few minutes before you take Lucas home?"

"Of course." Emery followed the guy through the door into what look like a home gym. She waved at Lucas, who was playing with something at the far end of the room.

The guy guided her toward a small office and ushered her into the room, closing the door behind him. "Where's Jane?"

Startled by the abruptness of the question, Emery took a step back.

He shook his head. "Sorry, I...I don't want Lucas to come in here." He extended his hand. "I'm Chris."

"Emma," she recited, shaking his hand. He had a firm grip and his fingers slid away from her hands slowly. "Jane left and I took over some of the kids on her caseload."

"Listen, I think Lucas may be getting abused at home."

Emery's head cocked to the side in question. "The school hasn't said anything. Why do you think that?"

"Well, any time I tried to physically guide him through anything today he withdrew, mentally and physically."

Emery thought for a minute. "Did you see any bruising? Any marks?"

He shook his head, and then ran a hand through his blond curls. "No, but I just see this so often it feels like there's something."

Emery nodded. "Look, Chris, thanks for giving me a heads up, but I can't really do anything with a feeling. I know what you mean, though, and I'll keep an eye out. I can do more random house visits as well."

Emery grabbed the doorknob to leave, but Chris' grip on her bicep stopped her in her tracks.

"Do I know you from somewhere?"

Emery shook her arm out of his grasp and looked at him, really looked. He seemed vaguely familiar. "No, I don't think so." She quickly opened the door and motioned for Lucas to come with her.

Her calendar alerted her that she was going to have her first home visit with Lucas' mother today. It wasn't the agency's first interaction with her, but Emery had never met the woman. She willed herself up out of the chair and into the shower. She'd decided she could simply live in her bathroom. It was created by someone that knew exactly what people needed to relax. Shedding her clothes, she locked her bathroom door out of habit and walked into the portion of the room separated by glass and turned on ten jets and the rain shower. Steam filled the room and her lungs. She let the water beat back the fear she had for the day.

Days had flown by her as she struggled with her massive caseload through the fall. Her work overwhelmed her and saved her. It broke her and then filled her with an optimism she wasn't used to having in her brain. She dove headfirst into the world of these kids and at times it threatened to swallow her whole. She blinked and Christmas had already passed.

As she massaged shampoo into her hair, she contemplated the work she was doing. The good she intended sometimes didn't come to fruition, but she lived for those glimpses of goodness. The peek into the possibility she was making a difference was just the positive she needed, whether it was a smile on Lucas's face or the utter regret over what they'd done showing on a parent's face. She lived for those moments.

She dressed and poured coffee into her travel mug and took the drive to a house that she'd been dreading entering. Emery had a feeling, a bad feeling that began in her toes and curled around both of her legs and wrapped her arms, pinning them to her body and making her paralyzed.

Emery shook off the premonition as she walked up the front steps to what looked like what were called old factory homes. They're really shotgun homes that were built near the factories near the Savannah River. A woman opened the door with a scowl on her face before Emery even knocked.

"Hi, I'm Emma Simpson from-"

"I know who the hell you are, lady," Lucas's mother interrupted. She turned and walked to the couch and slumped into it. "I know how all this works. You're trying to take my kid from me...trying to make me seem unfit."

That doesn't seem like it'll be too hard to do. "No, ma'am. I'm trying to get you services so that Lucas has what he needs from school and home." Emery took in the dirty surroundings. There were empty fast food bags, cups, and containers scattered around the room. The smell of cigarette smoke permeated the house. Emery coughed into her sleeve.

"That's bullshit."

"Trina," Emery started, recalling her name from Lucas's file. The black roots showing through her bleach job were quite distracting. "Can I call you that?"

"It's my name." Trina lit a cigarette and pulled an empty Mountain Dew bottle out from in between the couch cushions.

"Listen, Trina. I promise I'm not the enemy." She was still standing in the entrance of the room, too nervous to move farther into the house. "If things are fine here Lucas will be here. You deserve to be together as a family. We just have to check some things out and then get you guys what you need."

Trina looked up from her cigarette. "You for real, little girl?"

Emery straightened up. "I am for real. I really like your son. He's a good kid. I want to help. Let's work together."

"I've been through this shit before. I don't know who you are, but I know you aren't trying to work with me. You work with them. Now tell me what I have to do and get out of my house."

Emery was taken aback. She'd dealt with many different scenarios at parents' houses over the last few months, but she was hoping to get through this one on a good note. "Fine." She threw the packet of paperwork on the table. "Fill this out and let me know you're done. I'll come back and ask the questions I need to ask."

"Don't let me stop you from leaving," Trina responded sarcastically.

Emery shook her head as she opened the door and moved toward her car. She did understand the push back to her position, but she really didn't want to have to take any kids away from their parents. Though she knew from personal experience that sometimes that's the best thing for the kid.