I knew it had to be him from the first time I opened the case file and learned how he lost his job. My gut told me it was but I thought some kind of miracle would happen and it wouldn't be him after all.

I pushed the idea to the back of my mind.

I realized my instincts were spot on that day in court though, and I felt really, really bad during the hearing. Still, I forced my professional side to take over, because I had a job to do, no matter who was in that courtroom. The truth was, I'd been working on the Ava Houser placement a lot more than I should have been. It's an unwritten rule that we're not supposed to get emotionally involved in the cases we get handed, but Ava had me wrapped around her finger from day one.

She's such a bright, funny, intelligent kid, who's come a long way since she was brought to me a year ago. She hardly talked when we first met. They told me she passed through twenty different foster care homes since she was removed from her father's custody.  They didn't need to explain anything else to me after that. Being in this business has taught me how much these kids have to endure while they're shuffled through the system, and as I got to know Ava a little better, I quickly realized that she didn't belong in it anymore. She belonged with good people, that would love her.  I made it a little side mission of mine to place her with an adoptive family as soon as possible.

Then they told me her father was still trying to get her back, as I was trying to push the paperwork through. I was mad, initially. The guy was a heroin addict, made his kid live in a dirty slum with barely enough food to live on for most of her life. Her mother was long gone, which meant he was the sole provider. Instead of stepping up and taking care of her though, he left her alone all the time, probably to get high. Because of that, her social skills were way off when I first took her case. The last thing I wanted to do was send her back to that life. These supposed parents are all the same. They'll hand the judge a sob story about how they've turned their lives around, then they get their kid back and six months later I see the same kids pop back into the system. It's an unfortunate reality. One that I was determined to keep Ava away from.

What I didn't count on, was interfering in his life earlier than I planned to.

When the judge gave him a second chance, I wasn't surprised, but figured he would do what the rest of them did and not show up for the visit.  Once that happened, I knew it wouldn't take much for me to change the judge's mind, and terminate Jason's parental rights once and for all. Am I cold-hearted for still wanting to go through with it? I don't think so.

I'm just doing my job.

"Why'd you have to take this extra thing at work?" Preston pulls me closer to his warm body as the alarm clock sounds, and I swat it off. "I thought we were going to start spending our weekends together."

"It's only Saturday mornings for the next few months." I turn in his arms to face him and kiss his lips gently. "I have to do it, baby. This kid is a little bit special, and I want to make sure she's going to be okay. I'll be home around two. We can have dinner or something."

"Kids." He rolls his eyes. "I don't know how you do it. I can't stand them."

"Oh, c'mon," I laugh. "What about when we have kids?"

He shrugs. "Of course we'll have them. It's out of necessity.  Somebody has to carry on the family name, but honestly, I'm kind of dreading all of that work. Once you get pregnant, we'll have to start interviewing nannies right away."

"Nannies?" I laugh at him. "You're kidding me, right?"

He just stares at me, seriously. "Why would I be?"

"I don't know if I would want some stranger raising my kids for me."

"I was mostly raised by nannies," he smiles. "I think I turned out just fine. We'll be too busy for all of that diaper changing crap, Bets." He smoothes his hand over my cheek. "I'll be at the firm and you'll be..."

"Home?"

"Well yeah, but won't you want to sleep late and go shopping? My mom always did."

Jesus. Preston really has no idea how most people live. He wasn't always like this, but with all the changes, and his new career status, he doesn't think the same way anymore. I blame his parents.  Preston needs a good reality check. Maybe if I try really hard, I can get him to come to work with me.

"Look, it's the way life is for people like us, Betsy. The nanny keeps the kids busy while we go out and continue to live our lives. There's no harm in that, okay? It's just easier. We can do whatever we want without the kids getting in the way."

"Don't you think your life would have been different if your parents stepped up and raised you instead?"

He's silent for a long time. "It doesn't matter."

I take the hint. He doesn't want to talk about it, because he's not that deep. He doesn't like to talk about how much he loved his parents when he was a kid, he likes to focus on the present, and how good we're going to have it in the future. "I gotta get ready."

He pulls away and turns his back to me.

"Preston."

"Just go, whatever. It's fine Bets. I'll see you later."

I roll my eyes but decide to leave well enough alone and not push him anymore. It's what I always do, because when he's angry, he's impossible, and I can't be in a bad mood for this appointment. I have to be the strong one this morning, for Ava's sake. So instead of sulking while Preston falls back to sleep, I force myself to get up and start getting ready. I'm showered and dressed within forty-five minutes, and when I glance at the alarm clock on the nightstand I find that I'm right on schedule. It reassures me that today will work in my favor.

I pray that I'm right.

I leave Preston behind and pull up to the address listed on Jason's contact form fifteen minutes before eight. It's his sponsor's house of course. There's no way Jason could afford to live on his own at this junction. It's a nice, quaint little house.  A starter home. At least he's living with people who have their lives in order, but of course, that doesn't make it any easier to get his daughter back.

When my watch reads ten of eight, I pull out my notepad, prepared to note Jason's tardiness. 

7:57...

I put pen to paper.

Then the door opens, and Jason walks out of the house. To say I'm floored is an understatement. I didn't think he'd show, partially because of the bad blood between us and also because I felt he didn't care about Ava as much as he said.

I guess I was wrong. It's obvious he wasn't going to miss this for the world.

I get out of the car to greet him and open the passenger side door. He stops suddenly in his tracks. He has a backpack slung over his shoulder, and a small wrapped gift tucked under his left arm. I can tell his clothes are new too. A nice new pair of jeans and a polo top. That stubble is gone too, and I can tell that he cut his hair just for this occasion.

He cleans up nicely, and it's great that he made the effort for his daughter.

I still don't trust him.

"I'm glad you could make it, Jason," I say, forcing a professional smile.

He shrugs. "How long is the ride?"

"About a half-hour. I brought some muffins and coffee."

He looks at me like I'm crazy. "Breakfast?"

"Well, yeah."

"Why?"

I'm lost for a few seconds. "It's just the decent thing to do."

"Oh right," he laughs, and it's a sarcastic one. "Nice to know you can do the decent thing for me now considering what happened. The rest of the time you're just taking kids away from their parents, and helping your boyfriend walk all over the working class. It must be a fulfilling life. What do you guys do? Keep a running tally of how many poor people you can humiliate in a week?"

"That's not necessary. I'd watch what you say. I have to grade these visits and show the results to the judge at your next hearing. Your behavior plays a big part in whether or not you get your daughter back."

"Whatever. Don't dangle that crap in front of me, like I'm ten years old. I know how the system works and you don't have as much of a say as you think, so can we just go?"

"Of course." I fake a smile and step aside. He gets in the car quickly and silently and I don't say anything to him as I close the door. It's obvious he's done this once or twice, probably with some of the people I work with right now.

Please, give me the strength to survive today.

"So what's with all that stuff you said at the hearing about trying to give my kid away?"

I let out a short sigh and grip the steering wheel firmly as I continue to drive. "It's my job to place foster children with loving families. I've been trying to place Ava for more than a year."

"She has a loving family already."

I stare at him, and he's staring right back at me, an intimidating gaze in his eyes. He's trying to crack me, overpower me on the first day but I'm used to his type. I've supervised dozens of visits just like this one. He's desperate, wants me to back down, and give him some breathing room so he can run this custody battle without me breathing down his neck.

Jason doesn't know how tough I can be when I want a case to go my way.

"Mr. Houser, I understand you're trying to get your daughter back. Believe me, if the situation were different, I'd love to be the one to place Ava back with you, but the reality of the situation is, your life has been upside down for a number years, and I have to take into account what's best for Ava."

"I'm her father. She belongs with me."

I laugh a little. "Then play your part, and you shouldn't have a problem."

"Well, I already got a job, so it looks like I already have the upper hand, huh?"

I glance at him. "When?"

"I had the interview this week and got the job. I start Monday."

"Doing what?"

"Cleaning equipment and picking up scraps with a painting and construction company."

"Salary?"

"What's it to you?"

"I have to know for the paperwork."

He shrugs. "I don't know. He said around eight or nine dollars an hour to start."

"Can you afford a suitable apartment on that salary? Not a studio either. It would have to be a two-bedroom, in a good neighborhood."

"I haven't looked yet."

I smirk. "Well look at it this way. If you make nine dollars an hour, that averages out to about eighteen grand a year after taxes. What's the rent? About eight or nine hundred dollars a month, plus utilities. Then you have groceries to consider, clothing for Ava, a car payment, and gas. With that kind of money, you'd be dipping below the red line, causing her more stress."

"So I'll get a second job."

"Who's going to stay with Ava? There's no way you'd be able to afford child care."

I see his cheekbones jut out of his face as he grits his teeth together. "I haven't gotten that far yet. The hearing was a week ago. I'm not a miracle worker."

"Well, I'm just trying to put it all into perspective to you. Taking care of a child is a lot more than just having a job and a place to live, if you intend on giving her a quality life. The adoptive families I've interviewed have more than enough at their disposal to give Ava the kind of life she deserves, and that includes a college education."

"You know what? You DCF people are all the same. It's like you don't want these kids to be with their parents anymore. You'll do whatever you have to do to bring people down, so they'll give up. Let me tell you something, I'm not giving up. I'll work five jobs if I have to, and I'll figure out a way to have somebody watch my kid, put food on the table, and get her into college without your help."

"It's easy to say that, Jason. But I've seen what that kind of pressure does to people. More than half the kids that go back with their biological parents wind up back in the system within six months. I'm not trying to be the bad guy here, but I want you to know the facts and that you still have a way to give Ava a good life even if you can't provide it for her."

He laughs bitterly, crosses his arms, and looks out the window, but doesn't say anything else. I think I've gotten to him, and his last round of comments was a last-ditch effort to intimidate me.  That didn't work, and now he's scared that no matter what he does, it's not going to be enough.

 In a perfect world, love would be all that mattered but that's not the way the world works.

"Have one." I try handing him a bag with a muffin in it. "It'll help with the stress."

"Go to hell."

Well, I guess I know where we stand.