Annabel Lee ─ emily prentiss

twenty-one

THE preliminary home visit went well, although the social worker who performed the evaluation, a man definitely several years Emily's junior, was unaccustomed to their unique circumstances. He had never been to a home where the prospective foster parent already had a foster kid. It was six full hours of him tripping over his words when he realized he'd asked a question that didn't apply to them at all. He was apparently satisfied with what answers they could give him, because Emily was approved to continue the licensing process. She also managed to talk her way out of a few modules of training simply because they were inapplicable, but she still had to do about 20 hours' worth of stupid classes. Doing that with her work schedule was going to be a nightmare.

Tonight she was doing her therapy "homework" instead of getting plastered at a bar with her coworkers. Discussing Emily's difficulties opening up led to Melody "suggesting"—it wasn't actually a suggestion, it was an order—that Emily make an effort to tell Bel about her life. Bel knew almost nothing about Emily besides her job. Emily knew more about Bel than Bel knew about her, but that wasn't saying much. Emily gave into the pressure and agreed to work on her and Bel getting to know each other better.

"So where did you grow up?" Bel dipped a French fry in ketchup and popped it into her mouth. She sat across from Emily in a booth in a nearby diner, chipping away at her grilled cheese and fries. Emily pushed her salad around with a fork.

"A lot of different places. The States, the Middle East, a few European countries."

"Whoa." Bel's eyes widened. She'd only ever lived in two places and had never left the country. "What did your parents do?"

"My mother is an ambassador. My father did something in business. I don't even remember. He left when I was eight, and I haven't seen him since. He could be dead, for all I know." Emily realized what she just said to Bel, a girl whose father died when she was eight. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that."

Bel knew Emily meant well. She appreciated the efforts to protect her and her feelings. She did. But she wasn't that sensitive. Talking about death, even premature parent death, wouldn't break her. It was unfortunately part of life.

"You're fine. You don't have to walk on eggshells talking about death with me. It's not offensive to me to talk about parents dying, even my parents." She bit off half of another fry. "I'm sorry about your dad. He missed out on someone pretty cool. Are you close with your mom?"

"Not really, no. We're not really talking right now." Emily chose to omit the fact that the rift was caused by an argument over Bel and that she felt no particular inclination to repair it. She was really happy with her choice to take Bel, something her mother probably wouldn't understand based on their Christmas Eve conversation. Bel didn't need to know that arguing over her was why Emily and Elizabeth were on the outs, because Emily knew her well enough to know that she might blame herself. "She's hard to get along with sometimes. Were you close to your parents?"

Bel nodded. "When I was younger, I was a daddy's girl. He had a lot of issues with his parents, so he tried really hard to be better with me than they were with him."

Emily's heart seized at the idea of Bel having relatives who might want to take her away. "Why didn't the state put you with them?"

"They don't live in the States. My dad came here from Norway when he was eighteen. As far as I know, he hadn't had contact with them since he came here, and I don't think anyone tried very hard to track them down, if they tried at all. I'd be surprised if his family knows I exist."

She knew it was horrible to be relieved to hear that these people weren't a threat, because not having family was the reason Bel had gone through hell, but Emily couldn't help it.