That was why he was almost relieved when the first little glitch reared its head during the week before Christmas.
Herb had been pushing to finalize the adoption by Christmas, his reasoning being that he wanted to usher in the new year with the three of them together as a family. Bill didn't doubt that, but he had an inkling that with Herb's background in accounting he was well aware that Danny was good for a full year's deduction as a dependent if the adoption became official anytime before midnight December 31.
Which was okay with Bill. Raising a child in New York City was hellishly expensive and parents deserved any financial break they could get. That wasn't the glitch.
The glitch was Danny. The boy was having second thoughts.
"But I don't want to go," he told Bill one evening during the week before Christmas.
Bill patted his lap. "Why don't you hop up here and tell me why not?"
"Because I'm scared," Danny said as he settled into his usual spot.
"Are you scared of Sara?"
"No. She's nüice."
"How about Herb? Are you scared of him?"
"No. I'm just scared about leaving here."
Bill smiled to himself and gave Danny a reassuring hug. He was almost relieved to hear of the boy's misgivings. They were common, perfectly normal, and expected in Danny's case. After all, St. F.'s had been his home longer than any other place in his lifetime. The residents and staff were the only family he'd known for two and a half years now. It would be cause for concern if he weren't suffering a few pangs of separation anxiety.
"Everybody's a little scared when they leave, Danny. Just like they're scared when they come here. Remember when Tommy left last week to go live with Mr. and Mrs. Davis? He was scared."
Danny twisted around to look at him.
"Tommy Lurie? No way! He's not scared of nothing!"
"Well, he was. But he's doing fine. Wasn't he back just yesterday telling everybody how great it was?"
Danny nodded slowly, saying, "Tommy Lurie was afraid?"
"And don't forget, you're not moving far away. You can call me whenever you want."
"Can I come back and visit like Tommy did?"
"Sure can. You're welcome here anytime you want to come and the Loms can bring you. But pretty soon you'll be so happy and busy with Herb and Sara you'll forget all about us here at St. F.'s."
"I'll never do that."
"Good. Because we love you too. The Loms love you. Everybody loves you. Because you're a good kid, Danny."
That was Bill's message to all the boys at St. F.'s, most of whom were basket cases in the self-esteem department when they arrived. Bill began pounding it home from the moment they stepped through the front door: You are loved here. You have value. You are important. You're a good kid. After a while a fair number of them came to believe they were worth something.
The message was more than mere rote in Danny's case. Bill was going to miss him terribly. He felt as if he were giving away his own son.
So he sat there with his heart breaking as he held Danny on his lap and told him of all the wonderful times he was going to have with the Loms, of how Bill was going to send a message to Santa Claus to let him know Danny's new address and make sure he brought Danny lots of extra good stuff for Christmas.
And Danny sat, smiling as he listened.
Danny was quiet the rest of the week. But on Christmas Eve, as the final documents were being signed, he began to cry.
"I don't want to go with her!" he sobbed, tears spilling from his eyes onto his cheeks.
Sara was seated by Bill's desk; the battered valise holding all of Danny's worldly possessions rested by her feet. Bill glanced up and saw her stricken expression. He turned and squatted next to Danny.
"It's okay to be a little scared," he said. "Remember that talk we had? Remember what I told you about Tommy?"
"I don't care!" he said, his voice rising in the suddenly silent office. "She's bad! She's mean!"
"Come now, Danny. There's no call for that kind of—"
The boy threw his arms around Bill's neck and clung to him, trembling.
"She's going to hurt me!" he screamed. "Don't make me go! Please don't make me go! She's going to hurt me!"
Bill was shocked at the outburst. But there was no denying Danny's genuine terror. He was literally quaking with fear.
Out of the corner of his eye he saw Sara rise to her feet and step toward them. Her eyes were full of hurt.
"I—I don't understand," she said.
"Just some last-minute jitters," Bill told her, trying to assuage the pain he saw in her eyes. "Coupled with an overactive imagination."
"This seems to be more than just a case of simple jitters," Sara said.
Gently, Bill pushed Danny to arm's length and held him there.
"Danny, listen to me. You don't have to go anywhere you don't want to. But you must tell me about these terrible things you're saying. Where did they come from? Who told you these things?"
"No one," he said, blubbering and sniffling.
"Then how can you say them?"
"Because!"
"Because isn't good enough, Danny. Where did you get these ideas?"
"Nowhere. I just… know!"
Sara stepped forward. Slowly, hesitantly, she reached out and placed her hand on Danny's head, gently smoothing his perpetually unruly blond cowlick.
"Oh, Danny. I would never hurt you. How can you possibly think such a thing?"
Bill felt Danny stiffen at Sara's touch, then relax; saw his eyes roll upward for a heartbeat, then focus again. He stopped sobbing.
"You're going to be my little boy," Sara was saying in a soothing, almost-mesmerizing voice as she stroked his head. "And I'm going to be your mother. And together with Herb the three of us will make a wonderful family."
Danny smiled.
In that instant Bill was nearly overcome by an almost-uncontrollable urge to call the whole thing off, to wrap Danny protectively in his arms, chase the Loms from his office, and never allow them to cross the threshold of St. Francis again.
He buried the impulse. It was the father-son thing rearing its selfish, possessive head. He had to let go of this boy.
"You're not really afraid of me, are you, Danny?" Sara cooed.
He turned and looked up at her.
"No. I'm just scared of leaving here."
"Don't be afraid, Danny, my dear. It's supposed to snow tonight, which means tomorrow will be a white Christmas. Come with us and I promise you this Christmas will be utterly unforgettable."
Something in her words sent a chill across Bill's shoulders but he forced himself to let go of Danny and guide him toward Sara. As Danny's arms went around her hips and Sara's arms enfolded the boy, Bill felt his throat constrict. He turned away to hide the tears in his eyes.
I have to let go!
"I'd better take a rain check, Nick," Bill said into the phone. "It's snowing like crazy."
Nick's voice was tinny over the wire, and genuinely annoyed.
"Since when did a little white stuff ever bother you? Either you get yourself over here now or, snow or no snow, I'm coming over there and dragging you back."
"Really, Nick. I'm good where I am."
"The Quinns will be hurt if you don't show up. And besides, I don't think it's such a good idea for you to be alone on Christmas Eve—especially this Christmas Eve."
He understood and appreciated Nick's concern. He'd always spent part of Christmas with Mom and Dad. But this year…
"I'm not alone. I'm going to spend it with the boys. Which reminds me that I've got to check on them right now. I'll see you Saturday night. A Merry Christmas to you, and to the Quinns."