He listened, thanked her automatically, and lowered the phone. Raina had already read enough of his face to know another crisis had arrived. When he told her about the referral, she looked toward the door of the main building and made a decision almost visibly.
"Get in the truck," she said. Eli glanced toward the workbay. "Where are we going?" "Your house," Raina answered. "We need to talk to your mother, and there are people who can help her before tomorrow."
They drove in silence for the first few miles. Eli watched the dark hedges sliding past and tried to hold his father's death in one part of his mind while keeping the immediate problem of the caseworker in another. Raina made calls from the passenger-safe hands-free system, asking a community support coordinator about emergency food assistance and whether a caseworker could assess the family with all the facts rather than a first impression. She did not ask anyone how to hide the neglect. She asked what would make the house genuinely safer and what services Darla could access quickly.
"Will they take me away?" Eli finally asked. Raina kept her eyes on the road. "I don't know," she said. "They may decide you need to stay somewhere safer for a while. If that happens, we'll make sure you have someone who understands your situation and can speak up for you."
"I don't want Mom punished," he whispered. Raina told him child welfare was supposed to begin with his safety and support for the family, not punishment for being sick. She also told him something he needed to hear, even if he could not accept it yet: the state could not let a thirteen-year-old carry the responsibilities of a parent simply because he had become good at it.
When they turned into the driveway, the kitchen light was on. Darla stood behind the front window, one hand pressed against the glass as she watched Raina's headlights move across the porch. Eli saw his mother before she stepped away and wondered how many nights she had stood in that same place waiting for a vehicle that would never come. He took a breath, opened the truck door, and went to meet her.
Darla opened the door before Eli reached the top step. She looked at her son and then at Raina standing a short distance behind him, and some part of her seemed to understand that this was not another visit about homework. She stepped aside without asking questions. The house smelled faintly of cold coffee and unwashed dishes, and the heater's fan rattled whenever it switched on.
Raina explained the referral plainly. A child welfare caseworker would arrive the next morning, and the visit would involve questions about Eli's supervision, the condition of the home, school attendance, and whether Darla had enough support to care for him. Darla's face drained of color. She gripped the edge of the counter and asked who had called, as though knowing the name might make the call reversible.