Who really killed Wanda Day! - Wedding Bells (DAY! Series Book 2)

Chapter 15 - A Grouch, A Good Girl, And A Grudge

Alan James entered the world at the ungodly hour of 5:05 a.m. on May 5th, 1975, in the chilly town of Fairbanks, Alaska. His mother Rinalda wasn't a hooker, but for sure she behaved like one. His father, well, could have been Steve, could have been Alfred, could have been the guy Rinalda hooked up with behind the dumpster at a mall, or any of the other ten guys. She didn't know, she didn't question, Rinalda planned to get rid of the kid anyway. And so, mere minutes after his grand debut, Alan was given up for adoption. It only took the agency four days, one hour, and six minutes to find him a new home. His adoptive parents took one look at the little tyke and knew they had found their life's purpose.

But the honeymoon phase was short-lived. From the moment he could crawl, Alan proved to be a force to be reckoned with. His tantrums were the stuff of legends, with the tiny terror hurling everything from toys to books at his poor, unsuspecting parents. More than once, his mother found herself ducking for cover. As he grew older, Alan's outbursts became less frequent, but boy, did they pack a punch. The kid had all the subtlety of a rabid raccoon. One particularly memorable incident involved Alan latching onto his father's arm like a piranha, only to be pried off with a well-aimed frying pan to the head. That evening, as they nursed their wounds and contemplated their life choices, the adoptive parents made a decision: it was time to put this particular experiment in parenting back on the shelf.

The next morning, when Alan was eleven years, one month, and six days young, his parents decided it was time to take out the trash. Or rather, return it to the Adoption Agency, from where it came. Poor Alan had no idea what was in store for him, blissfully unaware that he was about to join the ranks of another famous 'returned' child named Thommy Palmer. But when his parents uttered a simple "Bye," the reality of the situation hit him like a ton of bricks. Cue the waterworks and the mother of all tantrums. The agency staff looked on in horror, wondering if they should have just let the parents keep the hellspawn. In a moment of sheer desperation, they decided to call in the big guns - Mr. Hard.

Mr. Hard, a foster father extraordinaire who specialized in taming the most unruly of foster children. With his background as a drill sergeant in the army, he had whipped countless little hellions into shape, often in record time. But Alan was about to prove that he was in a league of his own. The poor kid was still reeling from the abandonment by his adoptive parents, and it was all Mr. Hard could do to keep him from burning the house down.

After a grueling three weeks and two days, Mr. Hard had had enough. He threw in the towel, shoved Alan out of the car in front of the agency, and peeled out of there like his pants were on fire. To this day, the staff are still scratching their heads, wondering what on earth could have broken the unbreakable Mr. Hard. As for the man himself, he's sworn off foster parenting for good. The mystery of what happened in that house remains unsolved, with both Alan and Mr. Hard never being willing to talk about that.

And so began Alan's grand tour of facilities for wayward youth. Facility after facility, he left a trail of chaos and destruction in his wake. It took a small army to subdue him, and even then, a few unlucky souls ended up in the hospital. The staff turnover rate was through the roof, with many a brave soul quitting on the spot. By the time he was thirteen years, five months, and six days old, Alan had racked up more frequent flyer miles than a seasoned business traveler. And then, he arrived at the final frontier - the last stop on the crazy train.

This was an orphanage, run by Sister Lizbeth, a tough-as-nails nun with a heart of gold and the patience of a saint. This was a woman who made it her life's mission to take in the most hopeless cases, the ones that had been kicked out of every other facility in a 500-mile radius. Unlike the other institutions Alan had terrorized in the past, Sister Mary Margaret didn't believe in breaking the kids with brutal force or medication. Nope, she had a secret weapon up her sleeve - love and good old-fashioned hard work.