Amanda Perry [Perry - Fostering Hope (Silver Lining Book 1)

ALSO BY AMANDA PERRY

Chosen Storm

Hidden Embers

Knock on Wood

Fostering Hope

FOSTERING HOPE

KNOCK ON WOOD

BOOK 1

AMANDA PERRY

COVEY PUBLISHING

FOSTERING HOPE: KNOCK ON WOOD BOOK 1

COVEY PUBLISHING, LLC

Published by Covey Publishing, LLC

PO Box 550219, Gastonia, NC 28055-0219

Copyright 2017 by Amanda Perry

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the writer, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Cover Design Copyright 2017 Covey Publishing, LLC

Book Design by Covey Publishing, LLC, www.coveypublishing.com

Copy Editing by Covey Publishing, LLC

Printed in the United States of America.

ISBN: 978-1-948185-24-0

First Printing, 2017

For my mom. Id give almost anything to hug you one more time. I hope youre proud of me for finally following my dreams.

Table of Contents

This new family will love you. Im sure of it, Rebecca assures me as we slide into her newer model ford sedan. I buckle my seatbelt and settle in while admiring the clean interior and new car smell.

Rebecca Ship, who replaced my old social worker, showed up at my last foster home with the proper documentation. Anyone who can get me away from Mr. Track is a Godsend in my eyes. Rebecca has shown me nothing but kindness, but I dont trust her. Even though she seems nice enough and removed me from the filth of Tracks house, people always come across that way at first. It never lasts, and I learned early on no one can ever be fully trusted. My last foster father, Track, epitomizes this with the way he worked to lure me closer to him. Dealing with men like him before, I wised up quickly to his advances and made myself scarce. Because of this, when Rebecca chats to me about the foster home she found, I listen to her and smile or nod when appropriate. But when she asks if I have questions or concerns, I simply shake my head. No matter what I say, it wont change the outcome of my situation.

Ive managed to survive this long. The few months until my birthday and graduation should be a breeze. In theory, it wont be hard to keep my head down and my mouth closed for three months. Then again, I tend to lack a filter at times. It gets me smacked around on occasion. Calling Track an ass got me the bruise on my cheek.

This is a large family, Parker, Rebecca admits, tapping her fingers nervously on the steering wheel as we zoom down the freeway. The parents have been together for a long time. Theyve been fostering for nearly as long as theyve been married, though they havent taken in anyone new in quite a while. They have biological children and adopted children. Seven kids in all, though the older ones dont live at home anymore.

My breath catches at this new information. Seven kids. While not uncommon for a foster family, it usually means Im more of a pain in the ass to them. Those families generally end up being the worst to live with. Taking a deep breath, I prepare myself for the inevitable crap show awaiting me.

As we continue to twist and turn through the streets, I become confused. Rebecca heads into a ritzy suburban area. The houses grow larger and larger. Rebecca never told me where these people live, but this doesnt seem right. Houses as nice as these belong in magazines or movies. I sure as hell dont belong in one, even as a guest.

We pull to a stop outside a massive three-story brick house. Rebecca parallel parks her car on the side of the quiet street. A large iron gate blocking the driveway opens automatically when we exit the car. I search around, trying to figure out who opened it, but I dont find anyone. Rebecca gestures for me to follow her. Wordlessly, I push my bag higher onto my shoulder and trail behind her. Going into such a lovely place wearing baggie cut off jean shorts and an old shirt makes me uncomfortable. I dont own anything better, though. With no other way for me to change my appearance, I go about undoing my ponytail, smoothing my long dark blonde hair back, and tying it up again.

Rebecca gets to the door and rings the bell, turning to me and offering a reassuring look. Her genuine smile and happy demeanor make me uneasy. I dont dwell on it for long before the front door swings open, and a woman in her forties stands in front of us. Her red hair hits right above her shoulders, framing her freckled face. She and Rebecca both stand a few inches taller than me.

Rebecca! She smiles when she spots the social worker but her smile falters when she notices me standing next to her. Her bright green eyes bounce from me to Rebecca and back again. She recovers herself quickly, and her smile reappears, directed at me. You must be Parker!

Her arms spread wide, and she takes a quick step towards me. Instinct takes over, and I flinch away from her, stumbling backward a few feet, nearly falling down the steps of the front deck.

Squeezing my eyes shut with embarrassment, I take a few breaths before peeking up at the woman in front of me. She gapes at me with wide eyes. Her hand covers her mouth, and her eyes shine with unshed tears. Leave it to me to make a great first impression on this lady. She probably thinks Im a nutcase now.

Rebecca drops her head down, and she rubs her hand through her dark hair in frustration. Before I can apologize for acting like an idiot, a mans voice floats to us from inside the house.

Maggie? Is that Rebecca at the door? He calls out, causing the woman, Maggie, to spin around.

Yeah, Honey! Well be inside in a second, she calls back with a slightly shaky voice. Her shoulders rise and fall heavily as if she took a deep breath before she turns back to us. She blinks quickly a few times, clearing her eyes of any moisture. Briefly, I wonder if she might want to cry because she already realized her mistake in agreeing to take me in. Her big smile softens significantly as she steps to the side and holds the front door open. Would you like to come in?

I stay quiet, allowing Rebecca to take the lead. She nods and gestures for me to follow Maggie into the house. Trailing behind Maggie, I allow my gaze to wander. The beauty of the home stuns me.

Polished hardwood floors and light tan walls make the home warm and inviting. Dark wooden furniture matches perfectly. Everything is pristine. This place is amazing, I murmur softly, taking everything in as we walk along.

Thank you, dear, Maggie chirps happily. I have a great interior decorator.

The air leaves my lungs in a quiet huff. It makes sense these people have the means to hire a decorator, but it shocks me to be staying in such an upscale place.

Maggie leads us through the enormous entry way, past a picture-perfect living room, and into a state of the art kitchen. The table in the dining room off to the side of the kitchen seats twelve, and I suddenly wonder what their children might be like. Rebecca said seven kids make up the family, biological and adopted, but there arent any around to back up her claim.