Author: Robyn Carr

“Yeah, fine. But I have a favor to ask. On that day... You know what day I’m talking about, right? Would you make sure there are flowers there? On that little grave?”

“Of course,” she said. “What’s going on?”

“Oh, just some business. I was working with this kid. Young kid who’s been trying to take care of a family and he’s... He’s only seventeen, Carol. I think he could use a hand. It’ll mean staying put for a while.”

“And you’re going to help him,” she said, her voice sweet.

“I’ll try. I might not be able to, but I owe it to him to try. I worry about you, though. Will you be okay if I don’t make it back this summer?”

She laughed softly. “Al, it’s been thirty-eight years and our Ethan has moved on. Time we did, too.”

“You know, if I could do it over...”

“Mick, I wouldn’t change a thing,” she said.

“You wouldn’t?”

“Mick, my first love...I told you once, I’ll tell you again, I’ll always love you. There’s a special place in my heart for you, the father of my lost child, the man I spent most of my youth loving and admiring. I treasured those years we had, you and me. So, we’ve had our pain? Show me a human being who hasn’t. We managed to somehow carry on, though it wasn’t easy. We rebuilt our lives but we always have that wonderful bond. Thank you, Mick. You’ve been so good to me and I do love you. I have wished for so many years that you would find true happiness. No one I know deserves it more.”

“Carol,” he said with a catch in his voice.

“You’ve waited long enough,” she said. “I’ll be sure that little grave is cared for. It’s time for you to try something new. I’ll be here if you need to talk about it.”

“I think maybe you’re the best woman in the world,” he said.

“You get going now,” she said. “I think you need to make up for lost time.”

He might’ve driven over the speed limit most of the way, but he wasn’t stupid—he was real careful. He just had this nagging fear that he’d be too late, that in the two weeks he’d been gone those people he cared about most had learned to hate him for leaving abruptly, no explanation, not even saying goodbye, not making contact.

He didn’t want to confront Justin in a public place so he decided to sit in front of his house until the boy came home from work. It was ten by the time he got to Thunder Point and the light on inside the little house suggested the boy was home already. Al took the duffel out of his truck and walked to the door. He knocked and the door opened right away.

Justin stood there in a pair of board shorts and that was all. His mouth was agog.

“I shouldn’t have left,” Al said. “I’m back. I want to help.”

“What the hell?” Justin said.

“I need a place to stay. I’ll take the couch.”

“Just wait a minute here. I thought you—”

“I didn’t know what to do, all right?” Al said. “First of all, seems like whenever I feel like I could be more problem than solution I just hit the road. It always worked for me before. I couldn’t let go of it this time—I couldn’t stop thinking about you working eighty hours, about Kevin’s black eye, about that goddamn shrew who calls herself a foster mother and those lazy idiots laying around waiting for someone else to do the chores. I wanted to let it go, but it wouldn’t go. But here’s the deal—no matter how hard I try, the program probably wouldn’t have me as a foster parent. I don’t have that much going for me. For starters, I’m pretty sure I can’t even fill out the paperwork.”

Justin grinned. “I’ve seen your paperwork,” he said. “Pathetic.”

“Yeah, well I’ve never been good at that stuff but the way I see it, we gotta give it a shot. We can go together and I can’t think of a reason they wouldn’t let you help with it. I don’t have a record or anything. I make okay money and have a little savings. I won’t be able to help with homework but you can. Between us, we can keep the boys clean and dry and fed.”

“Seriously? You don’t have to. I’m going to—”

“I know, you’re going to do it all. Listen, kid, I’m not feeling guilty or anything, that’s not what this is. This is something I can do. I think it will make me happy.”

Justin shifted his weight to one leg. “Yeah? And what if you get in it and find out you’re not so happy? Then what?”

“I know it doesn’t look like it, but I can keep my word. If you boys don’t turn into total juvenile delinquents, I can get you grown up.” He paused a minute. “I want to, Justin. I’m not the best choice, but I’m adequate.”

“When?” he asked.

“I think we should go to the DHS office tomorrow. The sooner we get this rolling, the sooner we go pick up the boys and get ’em home.”

Justin thought on this for a minute. Then he said, “Okay. You can have the couch. And listen, if you don’t come through for me, I can take it. But if you get those boys’ hopes up and let ’em down, I’ll get even. I swear to God.”

“Perfectly fair,” he said. “Now I have a favor to ask.”

“You want the two thousand back?”

“Nah. I want you to find me a pillow and blanket. I gotta go somewhere and I don’t know how long this is gonna take. I have to go knock on Ray Anne’s door. I have lots of amends to make and I bet she’s really pissed.”

“You didn’t tell her you were leaving, did you?”

“You’re brilliant, kid. I really like that woman, but she’s not going to be happy and I don’t blame her. You have any advice?”

“Yeah,” he said, grinning. “Duck.”

Twenty-One

It took Ray Anne a while to answer her front door, though there was a light on inside. It took Al only a moment to assess—she had her hair wrapped in a pink cloth, tied in a bow on top of her head. She had no eyebrows. In fact, no eyelashes that he could see. She was wearing yellow silk pajamas, little feathery slippers, with heels, her face was greasy and she wore white gloves on her hands. Her mouth formed an O when she saw him. And then she slammed the door in his face.

So, this wasn’t going to be easy.

He stood there for a minute, thinking. Then he tried the door and of course it was locked. He walked around the side of the house and let himself into the garage through the side door—not locked. The door into the kitchen wasn’t locked and he walked in. She was standing in the middle of the living room and the house was very small so she saw him enter and shrieked. Her fists were clenched at her sides and her eyes were the size of hubcaps.

He thought she was the cutest little thing.

He took two long steps toward her, slipped his arms around her waist and lifted her off her little pink slippers and planted a big one on her mouth. He kept his lips there until her arms went reluctantly around his neck. After drowning her in a generous and passionate kiss for a full minute, he slid his mouth free of hers.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered against her lips. “That was awful of me, leaving like I did. You don’t have to forgive me, but I’ll never do that again.”

“You’re a bull,” she said. “You probably just want sex!”

He smiled. “Well, yes, I do, as a matter of fact. But that’s not why I came back.”

“Then why?”

“Three reasons. I like it here. I like you. I want to see if I can do anything to help those Russell boys. They could use someone on their team right now.”

“Help them how?” she asked, reaching a hand up to adjust her head gear and bow.

“I’m going to apply to be a foster parent. They’re in a bad place right now and Justin can’t do it without help.”

“Oh,” she said, clearly let down.

“If I live and work here, I can see you.”

“If you’re a father you won’t see that much of me,” she said.

“Come on, of course I will. They’re teenagers. They need supervision—they don’t have to be rocked and burped. I’m sure I’ll get a hall pass when I want one. I missed you, Ray. We work real well together. We have some good talks, some great laughs. You’re a damn good woman and we hit it off. I’d be a fool to let you get away.”

“It’s good you want to help some kids but really, if the kids didn’t need you, would you—”

“Come back to you? I think so, yes. I’ve been stuck in a sorry old pattern for a long, long time. I wanted to get on with my life better than I had. Be warned—I’m not that smart.”

“You’re very smart,” she said. “One of the smartest men I know.”

“You’re sucking up,” he said with a raised brow and a half smile.

“Oh, sure.” She laughed. “What’s that going to get me? You can’t even fit in my car. And you have now officially seen me at my worst.”

He lowered his lips and gave her a small kiss. “I told you before, I think you’re pretty. Can we be made up now? Because I don’t have many tricks in my old bag of tricks and I’d have to go ask that seventeen-year-old for advice.”

“I want one thing,” she said. “I want you to learn to call in advance. I want eyebrows at our next rendezvous.”

“You don’t want my oath that I’ll never leave without saying goodbye again?” he asked.

She shook her head. “You do that again, cowboy, and it’s the last time you come back to me.”

“You’re a tough woman, Ray. I like that.”

* * *

Laine and Senior sat on opposite sides of his desk playing an early morning game of Scrabble. He’d lost his edge; some things just didn’t come to him with the speed that he once possessed, but he was holding his own pretty well. He made a few mistakes, some of his words weren’t words, but he’d had a good couple of days. Just a few forays into the abyss. He often asked for his wife and Laine had learned not to tell him she was dead—it was as if the grief was fresh and new each time. She just said she wasn’t home. “Excellent,” she said of the game. “I didn’t think I’d ever beat you at Scrabble.”

“I gave you an advantage,” he said. “I should get a handicap.”

She laughed at him. “One more?”

“Sure,” he said, letting her mix up the little letters again. “Laine, I’m sorry. I think I said it already, but I’m sorry. For everything.”

“Dad...”

“I think I was a terrible father. And now I’m a terrible father and you’re stuck with me.”

She grabbed his hand. “I’m sorry you’re going through this but we’ve had some very good times the past several weeks—some good talks. I don’t feel stuck. I wonder, if you didn’t have this curse of a condition, if we’d ever have gotten to know each other this well.” She leaned across the desk and kissed his cheek. “I’m glad I can be with you now.”

“You’ll have to leave soon,” he said.

“Why?”

“Your work,” he said. “I know you love your work.”

“Hmm. That. Well, you’re right—I have loved it. I don’t think I’m going back into that line of work...I haven’t resigned yet. I meant to, but then life kind of intruded. I think I’m finished. I’m going to make it official pretty soon.”

He was quiet for a moment. “I don’t know what to say. Because of me?” he asked. “Is this because of me?”