Sarah Preston, a Child Protective Services worker, parked on the side of the road next to a small rectangular cement building, maybe once a garage. A neat, weedless row of yellow and white daffodils bordered the front of the home and a red wooden swing hung from an oak tree. Earlier this morning, Hook County Department of Social Services had received an anonymous hotline call about a young child seen alone in the yard at this address. 

It was the hottest part of the day. Sarah hoped it would not be suffocatingly hot or smelly inside, then immediately felt guilty for having such apprehensions. Ignoring the intestinal turmoil she always felt when conducting unannounced, investigative home visits, she stepped out of her car and knocked gently three times on the screen door. After a few minutes, the bright blue interior door opened to a small boy who looked up at her through the screen. 

“Who’re you?” he asked, giving her a huge toothless smile.

“I’m Sarah, who are you?” she said, charmed by his smile, and that he was wearing a large set of blue wings attached to his body with rubber bands, and a pink tutu. He looked about four or five.

“I’m the blue fairy,” he said. “These are my wings so I can fly.”

Sarah relaxed the grip on her clipboard and let her purse hang freely from her shoulder.. How could there be neglect or abuse when this child obviously had a great imagination and cool dress ups? His missing teeth were a concern, but she’d seen lots of kids missing some baby teeth due to dental caries. She’d make a referral to the pediatric dentist.

“Is your Mom or Dad here?” she asked. 

This home was about a mile away from other dwellings, and she’d noted the absence of any vehicles. Large and spread out, Hook County consisted of a small city surrounded by rural areas with old family farms, 1950’s era houses, churches, and trailer parks. Sarah had lived in Hook County for most of her thirty-four years, but she’d never been on this particularly isolated road.  

“Mommy said ‘don’t open the door’.” That big smile again. 

“Where is Mommy?”

“Down at Granmy Janey’s”

“Your grandma?”

“Granmy Janey. Where you smell uggy cows. She’s mean and fat.” The little boy spread his arms wide. “I live at thirty Oxtail Road.”

“You are so smart to know your address!” Sarah told the little boy. 

She had passed a small group of black and white cows about a mile down the road. Turning to look in that direction, she saw a woman pedaling fast on a bicycle. Arriving at the door, the woman threw her bike on the dry brown grass, almost crushing a daffodil. 

“John! I told you not to open the door.” The woman’s faded grey eyes examined her with the initial wariness Sarah often saw in clients. Usually, it only took about ten minutes to develop a rapport and dispel at least some of that fear, but it was always especially difficult when dealing with a hotline call.

 Sarah introduced herself and showed the woman her badge. “Don’t worry. He didn’t open the outside door. I love his wings. You’re Mom?” 

The woman yanked open the door, entered, and closed it fast, leaving Sarah on the outside. “Yeah. What do you want?” 

The blue fairy galloped away into the house fluttering his arms.

Sarah was starting to wilt in the heat but took her time as she explained about the anonymous hotline call, her role as a child protective services worker in keeping children safe, and the parent’s rights in this situation. She told John’s mother that an unidentified person had reported a boy at this house, wearing girl clothes, was alone in the front yard. The person didn’t know the boy’s age or name but thought he was around three. The woman listened silently from the inside of the screen door. Her face lacked expression and she occasionally scratched the back of her head. 

“God. Hell. No. Almost five,” she said. “I was just down the road. He was supposed to sit and watch TV until I got back. He’s safe. Jesus. He can wear what he wants.”

Sarah was relieved that, though obviously and understandably upset, the woman was not as angry as some hotline call recipients. She’d often been threatened, cursed, and had doors slammed in her face. 

“Yes, he seems fine. But I do need to talk with you and John. I need to check on a few things and fill out some paperwork. Could you tell me your name too?”

“Moll Martin.” Moll slowly opened the door and gestured Sarah inside with an upturned palm coupled with a sarcastic facial expression.

 Sarah took off her shoes and walked onto a thin spotless rug. “Nice. Your place is a lot cleaner than mine.” 

It was cool in the house as the bright yellow curtains kept out the heat, and it smelled like cinnamon. A small bookshelf contained a row of children’s books, a container of crayons, a stack of paper, and an upper row of paperbacks. The only other furnishings were a small sofa covered by a clean crocheted afghan and a TV.

“I need to get lunch started.” Sarah knew Moll meant that she was busy, that she had important things to do, that this was her home, and that Sarah better not take up too much of her time.

“What’s for lunch?” John stood on tiptoes and reached for Moll’s shoulders as he pushed his face into her t-shirt.  

Moll kissed him on the top of his head. “It’s a surprise, but you’ll love it.” She smiled briefly, glancing at Sarah.

Sarah smiled in response. “I’ll let you get on with your cooking. Okay if I chat with John for a few minutes? Then I’ll just have a few questions for you. I’m sorry, but it’s regulations that I check his room and look around.”

“Suit yourself.”

“Hey, Blue Fairy. Could you show me your bedroom?”

John’s bedroom was as neat as the living room. His bed was made. On the puffy quilt lay four magic wands; the kind with liquid, glitter, and stars inside. One wall was covered with carefully taped-up crayon drawings of rainbows. One rainbow on each sheet of paper. A few lego structures sat on the floor, next to a row of My Little Ponies.

“Did you make all those rainbows?” Sarah pointed to the wall.

“Mommy puts them on the wall. Want me to make one for you?”

“That would be wonderful. So, what do you do when your mom goes to Granma Janey’s?” Sarah asked.

“Granmy, mean Granmy. I sit and watch my programs.”

“Does mom go for a long time or a short time?”

“She goes for Angelina Ballerina.” John pranced around in circles on his bed, making the wands bounce around.

“Why don’t you go to visit your Granma with your mom?”

“Granmy. Why don’t you get her name right? Cause Granmy yells really loud all the time.” John covered his ears and his eyes got big. “Get out of here you bitch.”

“Hey?” Sarah had heard that a lot but didn’t expect it from this sweet little boy.

“Granmy says that.” Okay, Sarah thought. He’s just imitating.

“What would you do if you got hungry when your mom was gone?” 

“I can make cracker and jelly sandwiches. I have my special snack box. Why did you come here?”

“I’m just going to talk with your mommy, then I’ll go away.”

“I’m gonna wand you.” John picked up a wand in each hand, shaking them to make the glitter and stars swirl around.

Sarah entered the small, uncluttered kitchen. Based on her observations and a brief discussion with Moll, it was clear the family had adequate food. The home was clean and safe. There were toys and books for John. He had his own bedroom and seemed happy. Moll said she’d only been gone ten minutes to check on her mom. She’d only left John in the house this once. It wouldn’t happen again. 

Sarah found it hard to believe she hadn’t been gone longer. The bike ride there and back alone would have taken 10 minutes, and it sounded like Gran Janey had a lot of needs and was a difficult character. Although John was old enough, and more importantly, seemed mature enough to play outside his home with a parent inside the house, he was pretty young to be left alone with his mom a mile away. The circumstances noted in the hotline call did not seem to be a big problem. In her report, she could focus on the positives, but she would need to mention that John had been left unsupervised. She returned to the sanctuary of her car.

#

On the way back to her office, Sarah passed a man named Bo Scutch biking to his job at Fairline Motors. Although she seldom encountered clients in her comfortable non-work life, now and then she’d spy someone from her car, or across the street, or in a store, about whom she had intimate knowledge. She happened to know that Bo had a slight intellectual disability and had lost custody of his son because he had fondled him inappropriately. Most likely Bo had experienced sexual abuse himself as a child. He wouldn’t remember her; she’d only met him once and he had not seemed to understand who she was at the time. He had not focused on her at al,l but had looked down at his hands and muttered, “Got to get Sonny from school.” 

He looked so innocent riding that bike, unaware that the lady in a nearby car knew his name; knew major circumstances about his life; knew that he was alone now. No Sonny. It was an uncomfortable god-like feeling to know this kind of thing about people. That’s what they did at Hook County Social Services. They played God with people’s lives.

Back in her office, Sarah answered emails and calls, agonized quietly over a cup of coffee in the tiny break room, and posted the hotline call report just before leaving for the day.    

The next morning, she was not surprised to find a brisk message from her supervisor, Mrs. Wilson, on her phone. “We need to chat. Please come to my office as soon as possible.” The please was not a request.

Sarah slumped in her office chair and turned on her computer. It was no good looking up a regulation. There was no New York State law stating at what age a child could be left alone. But no one would believe that a four-year-old was okay with a parent a mile away. The fact was, depending on the circumstances of further investigation, Moll could be in for a hard time, and Sarah had been the one to start the family down a thorny path with one small sentence in her report. John greeted me at the door just as Ms. Martin returned on her bike from a brief visit to her mother, who lived down the road.

She often considered quitting this job. But as Dustin, her husband, always reminded her, ‘someone has to do it, and it’s better if it’s you. A nice, smart, humane person.’ Sarah wasn’t so sure about her wonderful qualities, but still, hearing that helped.  

She walked dutifully down the hall and stepped into Mrs. Wilson’s office.

“Sit. Why didn’t you contact me the moment you knew about this?” Mrs. Wilson’s eyes flashed and her cheek twitched.

“About the hotline call?”

“I knew about that. Of course. The child being left alone by Ms. Martin.”

Sarah knew she should have acted immediately according to Mrs. Wilson’s strict protocol about children left unsupervised, but she hadn’t felt that John was in any danger. Really, kids just a few months older walk short distances to and from kindergarten on their own. Crossing streets even. If she’d been a better person, maybe she’d have left out the bit of information about his mom being away or softened it more somehow. But she was not good at lying. And maybe there really was a substantial safety issue. It was hard to know for sure.

“Earth to Sarah.” Mrs. Wilson drummed her fingers on the table. 

“Honestly, I didn’t believe John to be in any danger. I reported the facts, but my assessment of the situation…”

“Your assessment,” Mrs. Wilson interrupted. “You have been told to report to me immediately if a child under eight is ever left unsupervised. And this one is four. I question your judgment. You are too empathetic at times.”

“I can make a follow up visit. He’s almost five.” That last remark was sure to anger Mrs. Wilson even more, but she had to advocate somehow.

Mrs. Wilson’s eyes turned rock hard. “Please do that. Today. Visit the grandmother first, then Ms. Martin. And come see me immediately afterwards.” Mrs. Wilson turned to her computer. As always after these little ‘chats’, Sarah knew, by her boss’s profile, with its tight grey bun and glasses pushed down on her long sloping nose, that she was dismissed.

#

Granmy’s home looked like it might have some connection to the nearby farmhouse; the one with a field of cows. Maybe the people who lived in the farmhouse helped with Granmy. Sarah hoped some nice family lived in that big house, some kind of viable support system.  

She knocked on Granmy’s screen door. The inside door was open.

“Moll?” The voice coming from somewhere inside was guttural but loud.

“No. My name is Sarah. I talked to Moll the other day. And your grandson, John.” No good saying she was from Social Services right off. She’d never meet Granmy that way.

“Go away.” 

“I really need to talk with you. Just for a moment. Okay?” Sarah used her most pleasant voice. “Okay, Granmy Janey?”

“That’s what John John calls me.”

“That’s right.”

“Who are you?”

Sarah smiled. That was exactly what the blue fairy had asked when she’d met him. “My name is Sarah Preston, and my job is to check if people need help. I work for Hook County 

Department of Social Services.

“Don’t need help. DSS is a crock.” 

Sarah guessed the whole conversation would take place sight unseen, but at least there was a conversation.

“Moll said she came to help you the other day. Does she come by a lot?”

“She brings my food. Bikes or borrows Ol Miller’s car. Cleans my mess.”

“Like, every day?”

“Sometimes. Tell her to bring John-John. She don’t.”

“Could you tell me who lives in that big old farmhouse with the cows? Or are they your cows?” Best to keep her talking any way she could.

“Never was a farm lady. Hate fucking cows. Old man Miller lives there- rents me this house cheap. Hate the manure smell. Ol man smells too. Whisky. I’m done talking.”

Before driving down the road to Moll’s house, Sarah sat in her car collecting her thoughts, consciously breathing to suppress her squishy stomach, and taking a better look at the surroundings. Old Man Miller’s house had seen better days, with its flaking paint and caved-in tin roof over the front door. A rusted tractor blended into the dried grass along with two wheel-less cars. A pickup truck with an empty gun rack was parked in the driveway. 

The farmhouse door opened with a loud crack and a man stepped out. He stood squinting at her car, hands on his hip, lips tight. The man’s stance gave her an uncomfortable feeling, so she sat up straight and started her car, avoiding his stare. People didn’t like strangers sitting in cars looking at their homes. She didn’t blame them, but she didn’t have a good feeling about Old Man Miller.

The subsequent visit with Moll did not go well. Sarah had hoped Moll could demonstrate the last visit was a one-time emergency situation, never to be repeated. Moll would have to provide evidence of a plan to ensure that John would not be left alone if she had to leave for any reason. There would have to be a plan to ensure Granmy’s needs were met without depending on Moll rushing over there on her bike. But there was no plan and Moll had said, “This wouldn’t even be a problem if I lived in Switzerland. They leave their kids, even babies, home alone. Go to restaurants even.” Moll had stared hard at Sarah, then added. “But anyway, I’ll take care of it. You can all leave us alone.” 

“One more thing,” Sarah said. “Your mom said you borrow Mr. Miller’s car to get food.”

“Yeah, so what? I can show you my car seat. John loves to help me shop.”

“Nice of the man to loan you his car.”

“Yeah, well, he’s a perv. Doesn’t do it out of the goodness of his heart. I pay.” Moll’s eyes widened. “I pay.” she repeated. Sarah thought she caught a glimpse of something different in Moll’s expression. Whether it was a moment of vulnerability or fear or something else, she couldn’t tell. 

As Sarah was walking out the door, John appeared, still wearing his wings. “Here you go,” he said, and handed Sarah a piece of paper.

“Oh, what a beautiful rainbow. Is this for me? Thank you so much, Blue Fairy.” Sarah smiled at John, looked at Moll, and left with a heavy feeling in her body. 

The sad, frustrating situation did not improve over the next week of phone calls and visits. Either Moll or her mother turned down every suggestion or resource. 

Sarah had offered a home health aide but Moll said, “Tried that. She kicks ‘em out every time.” She’d discussed nursing homes or assisted care. “You’d have to take her kicking and screaming,” Moll had said. And Sarah knew that would involve waiting lists anyway. 

“Meals on Wheels might come out here- would you be open to that?” she’d asked both Granmy and Moll. “Nope,” from Granmy. “She’s too picky,” from Moll. 

Childcare options were nixed as well. “Went to a lady down the road. She hit him.” Sarah had also looked into Head Start classrooms, but they had no openings and didn’t provide transportation. 

“Tried leaving him with Mom when I went to get food. She cut his hair. Told him fairies would go to hell. Ripped his wings. He’s got more sense than her any way you look at it.” Moll had told her.

Despite Moll saying, once again, that everything was fine, she’d ‘take care of it’ and ‘they could all leave her alone’, Sarah worried that Moll would continue to leave John unsupervised on occasion. Probably nothing would happen if she did leave him alone for an hour or so, but it could. Fires. Falls. Getting sick. Getting scared. 

Unlike many of her clients, who shared their whole life story the moment she met them, Moll remained private and distant, surrounded, Sarah imagined, by her own personal demons. 

Hook County Social Services received another hotline call. This time it was from the day care provider who lived in the area and who had taken care of John for a short time. The one, Sarah figured, who had hit him according to Moll. The neighbor knew Moll’s circumstances and had seen her biking towards the cow farm, alone after sundown. Worried about John, the caller had stopped and knocked at Moll’s door. John had answered the door and had obviously been alone. She had come in to make sure he was okay. About thirty minutes later, Moll had returned and yelled at the neighbor for trespassing. Moll told the neighbor to mind her own business.  

 During the new hotline call follow up visit, Moll promised Sarah that she would never leave him alone again. They could check on her at any time. She seemed close to tears, and generally softer than in previous visits. Despite Moll’s promises, a court date was set and a law guardian was appointed for John. Sarah knew from previous experience that Moll could lose custody, at least temporarily, even if Sarah affirmed that she was a supportive, smart, loving parent, that John was thriving, and that a separation would have detrimental effects.

#

Sitting in her own dining room, concentrating on a jigsaw puzzle –Monet’s Bridge over a Pond of Water Lilies – Sarah thought about the one rickety metal table in Moll’s kitchen, the unfairness of life, and about how she had the luxury of a whole table for just a puzzle. A beautiful solid walnut table at that.

“I need a squoog with two bumps”, she said. 

Artsy Fartsy, her calico, meowed pitifully at the door, twenty-some emails remained unread, she had no idea what was for dinner, and a blue fairy was about to be removed from his home.

“You always say doing jigsaw puzzles is good because the more you look, the more you see things you never noticed before.” Dustin came up behind and kneaded her hunched over shoulders.

“So?” Sarah placed a piece.

“Maybe there’s something more to see in that kid situation you’re agonizing over. Something you haven’t noticed yet.”

“Maybe. But I couldn’t. Couldn’t fix it–just going to be one more trauma. A little kid.”

Sarah was a stickler for confidentiality, so she hadn’t disclosed any of the details to Dustin, just that a sweet little kid was going to be placed in foster care and that this case particularly bothered her. 

Maybe she wasn’t cut out for this job. Her desire to protect children somehow always turned into the messiest, grayest, situations. Even after eight years on the job, she often felt inexperienced. She was never sure if she was doing the right thing, and her actions could change lives. Often not for the better–at least for the immediate future–which was all people seemed to see. This is my job. Poverty is not my fault, she thought. Yet she often felt like the bad guy and didn’t blame clients for seeing her like that.  

“Okay google, set a timer for fifteen minutes.” Sarah breathed in and out to make the tightness in her belly go away. Fifteen more minutes to work on her puzzle, her nice puzzle where pieces either fit or didn’t, then she’d check her emails and work on the plan for John’s removal. It was a weekend, but the work went on, as did her clients’ tricky lives.

#

An immaculately clean duffel bag with four wands and a book titled Angelina Princess sticking out of the top leaned against the front door.

“It’s just until we find someone to take care of your mom, or someone to watch John while you check on her.” Sarah gently touched the table in front of Moll. “You can visit him of course. I made a plan for that.”

“You have no idea, lady, what happens to people,” Moll whispered angrily. Using all her fingers, she repeatedly pushed lank hair behind her ears. “What if I never get him back?” She started to cry, then stopped after one minute and straightened her shoulders with a tough shake. 

  Of course you’ll get him back, Sarah was about to say, but then realized that Moll was right. She had no idea what it was like to be in Moll’s situation. The system didn’t always work for people. She sat quietly, helplessly.

John peered around the corner and pointed two wands into the room. “Poof.” he said. “Bang.”

“Come here, baby.” Moll held out her arms and John jumped onto her lap. She buried her face in his hair.

“You’re mushing my wings.” John wriggled free. 

Moll stared piteously at Sarah. “I talked to him. He knows.”

“Hey Blue Fairy, you’re going to take a ride in my car. What do you think of that?”

“Yeah, I know. Going to visit Missus Donkey.”

“Yes. Mr. and Mrs. Donker. They like little boys with magic wands. Mommy can come see them soon too, but not right now.”

“Poopyheads.”

“John! You better not.” Moll hit the table with the flat of her hand, though it didn’t make a noise.

“It’s okay,” Sarah said. “It will be okay.”

John flew out the door into the sunshine, a wand in each hand. Sarah envied him for his wings and his wands. Here was hope in the form of a toothless blue fairy. She put her arm around Moll’s shoulders. “Look at him,” she said. “It will be okay.” 

Moll stayed still, accepting the embrace. “I didn’t get a wink of sleep last night, Sarah,” she said, using Sarah’s name for the first time.

“Me neither.” Sarah gave Moll’s shoulder a squeeze, removed her arm, and followed the blue fairy to her car.

About the Author:

Joan Slatoff’s work has appeared or is forthcoming in Exposition Review, Dime Show Review, Bangalore Review, Flash Fiction Magazine and Sequestrum. She is unsuccessfully trying to retire from fifty years in the field of early childhood. Find her on Instagram @miraelhome and Twitter/X @MiraelArt.

*Feature image by Ian Lindsay from Pixabay