Equal Access

By A. E. Branson

Copyright 2015 A. E. Branson

Published by A. E. Branson at Smashwords

Cover Design Copyright 2015

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Dedication

To my husband Andy – I can’t think of any better person with whom to share this adventure called life.

“And quake, thou quaker, before the majesty of the law.”

--Response of Justice Gervaise Bennett to George Fox when Fox exhorted him to “tremble in the fear of the Lord.” The judge sentenced Fox to spend almost a year in the Derby jail on charges that included blasphemy.

Prologue

Hide me in the shadow of Thy wings from the wicked who obstruct me, from deadly foes who throng round me.

--Psalms 17:9

“We can’t just call Social Services.” Maddie spoke her words into the night as though challenging its darkness.

Paxton shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. His distress was not from the way he was standing, but rather from the way this conversation on their front porch was going. “This is why we have Social Services.”

“We have it because there are people like Shad’s mother.” Maddie turned her head to look at him. Light from their living room window cast illumination across the concrete porch, so Paxton could easily see her as Maddie stood at the white railing. “In most cases I would whole-heartedly agree that’s what we should do. But in Shad’s case I have a concern that he is so … unique, he’d be lost in the system.”

Paxton exhaled as he thrust his hands into the back pockets of his well-worn blue jeans. I have a concern. Any time a woman descended from Margaret Leeds uttered those words, anyone wanting to argue against her was wise to keep in mind that he might be arguing against a will that was bigger than both of them. When their older daughter used the phrase a couple of weeks ago, Paxton had been more inclined to dismiss the notion. Erin was only twenty-two years old and not as experienced in responding to that silent voice, which was why she had sought her parents’ advice in how to deal with this dilemma.

“Every child is unique in some way.” Paxton reminded her.

Maddie regarded him pointedly. “There’s something about Shad. A formal institution isn’t what he needs right now. He’s a very troubled child –”

“Which is why we should call Social Services.”

“– and he needs far better than to be shuffled around to foster homes while case workers poke and prod him.”

“So just where do you propose we should send him?” Even as the words left Paxton’s mouth he felt his stomach flutter with trepidation.

Maddie returned her gaze to the darkened yard for several seconds before responding. “Shad’s mother agreed to let him spend a week with strangers once school let out for the summer. She hasn’t been in contact with Shad these three days we’ve had him even though we called her. I’m half ready to believe we could keep him all summer and she wouldn’t care.”

Paxton’s agitation kept growing. “And then what? Wait to contact child welfare until school starts up again? They’re gonna look at us funny, and it’s not like we can fix him in three months.”

“No.” Maddie’s tone became more solemn. “It will take a lot longer than three months.”

Paxton could hardly believe she was coming so close to saying exactly what he didn’t want to hear. “We aren’t qualified to take in a special needs child. They train foster parents to do that. We wouldn’t be fair to Shad as well as to ourselves.”

“It isn’t fair.” Maddie spoke those words as though she were confirming a profound judgment. Then she locked her gaze on Paxton’s. “I didn’t ask for this, either. When I told Erin to ask Shad’s mother if she would allow him to spend a week with us, I truly expected we would make the call ourselves.” Maddie turned her face back toward the darkened yard. “But Erin was right. As well-intentioned a program it is, it isn’t for Shad. He needs stability right now.”

“What stability can we possibly offer?” Paxton yanked his hands from the jeans pockets and folded his arms over his chest. He leaned back against the railing to face the front of their farm house. “It’s not like we can just ask his mother if we can keep him longer. There’s all the issues about guardianship and power of attorney and all that.”

“She might give him up for adoption.”

Paxton could have sworn his stomach just did a back flip. “I’m not making myself clear.” He looked directly at Maddie. “We can’t keep him.”

She didn’t return Paxton’s gaze but remained standing straight and still at the railing. Even though Maddie was dressed in the pullover blouse and khaki shorts she had worn to work about the house and garden today, she possessed the same tranquility Paxton was accustomed to seeing on her at First Day meeting when she would wear a dress. A few escaped tendrils of her upswept hair swayed gently in the breeze, but otherwise Maddie was as calm as stone.

Paxton knew to respect her silence, but at this moment it unnerved him. As he scratched at his trimmed salt-and-pepper beard just to work out some nervous energy, Paxton found himself yet again contemplating that great unanswered question.

Why?

His conscience was bothering him, and that only irritated Paxton all the more. How could they hurt anything by contacting Social Services? Shad – whose real name was Shadow but Paxton had immediately decided that sounded too much like a dog’s name – was only one of unfortunately thousands of children who suffered in neglectful or abusive homes. Why did this eleven-year-old boy start spending all his non-school time at the library in St. Louis where Erin worked? Why was she the only one in the staff to take notice of the quiet child who never bothered anything? Why was it this skinny, dark-haired, brown-eyed youth whose olive skin was already acquiring a distinct tan from his few days spent outdoors, caused the descendants of Margaret Leeds to have a concern about his welfare if they logically alerted the state to remove Shad from his so-called mother?

It wasn’t that Paxton didn’t like the boy. His heart went out to Shad. The usually silent child seemed most content to have his nose stuck in a book or newspaper or even an instruction manual. Paxton had him tag along during chores around the farm, and Shad would do anything asked of him without a murmur of either consent or complaint. To some people he might initially seem to be an okay kid.

But Shad was socially deficient. He never made eye contact, initiated conversation, or showed any emotion beyond his, well, emotionless demeanor. He did have a tendency to tremble for a couple of seconds whenever they placed a hand on his shoulder or back, yet still there was no change in Shad’s expression. It was as though he went through the motions of living in this world when in actuality Shad lived in a world within himself.