“BOONE, WHAT THE hell are you doing?”
He dragged his attention from the computer screen to Jill, framed in the office door. Behind her he spotted flashes of color and heard the unmistakable cries of kids running past. He swiveled slightly in his chair to follow their path as they flitted from side to side down the road, chasing and laughing and reveling in life.
Enjoy it while you can, kids.
In the doorway, Jill tapped her foot and gave him the over-the-glasses glare she had perfected over decades of herding jackasses like him.
“I know you heard me,” she said. “Your ears might have got plugged up on the plane, but you’ve been back a solid week now, so I know there’s something else clogging your head. Not to mention that’s the fifth time I’ve walked through here and seen you staring at the same game of FreeCell.” She shook her head as she walked to her own desk. “If you’re going to slack off, just leave for your place and do it right. I have plenty to do in here without needing to babysit you.”
“Don’t sweet-talk me too much, Jill. It’ll go straight to my head.”
“You’re such a pain in the arse.”
It felt good to have her berating him again. He’d learned long ago that the only time he needed to worry with Jill was when she wasn’t giving him hell.
“I’ll leave soon. But the Wi-Fi at my place was spotty this morning, and it’s Saturday, so I need to—”
“Oh, that’s right.” Jill checked the clock. “You need to call Jamie.”
The dread that had filled him from the moment he opened his eyes this morning multiplied faster than rabbits in spring. “Yeah.”
“Can you give me five minutes?” she asked. “I just want to find a couple of files. I’ll take them back to my place and put a sign on the door so you can have privacy.” Her eyes met his and softened. “Unless you’d rather have company.”
Would he? Oh, hell, yes. He was pretty sure that this call was going to be as rough as the whole drive from Comeback Cove to the airport. Or the never-ending time waiting for his flight, when he knew that all he had to do was make one fast call and everything could turn around. Or that whole last week when every waking moment, and most of his sleeping ones as well, was spent drowning in the awareness of what he had lost. Which was nothing compared to what he would have lost if Kate hadn’t been there.
You’ve lived through worse, he told himself. It was what he’d always said.
The difference was that this time he didn’t believe it.
“I’ll be okay,” he told Jill. He would survive this call. And the next one, and the one after that, until they became more joy than torture once again. “But thanks for the offer.”
“No need for thanks,” she said with something closer to her usual briskness. “I’m just dying to get another look at that little cutie of yours. You haven’t been flashing near as many pictures as I’d like since you got back.”
“Trying not to be an obnoxious father.”
“Good Lord, Boone. Like anyone could ever get bent out of shape over a man in love with his child.”
He didn’t like the way she looked at him when she said that. It made him feel like he was back in her grade nine algebra class, trying to convince her that he’d done his homework but simply forgot to hand it in.
Craig had welcomed Boone back with a hearty back slap and carried on as always, but Jill had been giving him the eye since he walked into the office. If he didn’t do something to convince her he was okay soon, she was going to start asking questions he didn’t want to answer. Either that or she would bypass him and talk directly to Kate.
That could not be allowed to happen.
“Here.” He pulled his phone from his pocket, opened the photo gallery and handed it to her. “There’s about fourteen thousand shots of Jamie on this. Knock yourself out.”
He turned back to his laptop, trying to shut out the comments and coos coming from behind him. Email. He would check his email. So what that he had already checked it eight times in the last hour? So what that, once again, there had been nothing from Kate other than the usual brief rundown of Jamie’s day, accompanied by a new shot of him being adorable?
It was better for everyone this way. He was here, doing what he knew he could do best. Jamie was growing and thriving and surrounded by enough love that it didn’t matter that his father wasn’t physically present. And Kate—well, she might believe that she loved Boone, but time would help. Now that he was gone she could get back to her regular life. Her safe life. Allie was moving in soon and Kate could watch her and Cash navigating their way to a family, and Kate would remember what she really wanted.
Maybe Boone should email Eric from the hardware store, the one who had gone to school with Kate. He’d been awfully interested in how she was doing. Boone suspected that if asked, old Eric would be more than happy to deliver something to Kate, or give her some advice on finishing the jobs Boone hadn’t been able to get through. Eric would know how to patch the holes and smooth off the rough edges and make sure everything was the way it should be. And when the jobs were done, Eric would still be there, in Comeback Cove, part of Kate’s regular world.
Yeah. That might be a good thing. And maybe, in about fifty years, Boone would find the strength to do it.
“Here you go.”
With a start, he realized Jill was at his elbow, holding his phone out to him while he sat there like a zombie in front of his screen. He really needed to get a grip.
But even as he thought it, he knew he was screwed. Because the only way he could pull himself together was by getting a grip on the only two things that mattered.
Jamie. And Kate.
“I’ll get out of your way now,” Jill said quietly. He nodded his thanks. She slipped out the door and closed it firmly behind her, leaving him alone.
After a lifetime of being on the empty side of a door, Boone should have been used to it.
Yeah. He really should.
* * *
KATE SETTLED JAMIE on her lap, hit the button to start the Skype call and pulled up the smile she’d been practicing all morning. She could do this. Fifteen, twenty minutes, and this first sort of contact would be behind her, and then she could breathe again. She had her list of things to tell Boone, all about the new tooth coming in and that they had started tasting vegetables, and that Jamie had figured out how to sit up by himself and grab the stuffed alpaca Boone had given him. Jamie was wearing his cutest shirt and Kate had combed her hair and brushed her teeth—total win—so she was as ready as she would ever be.
She would be fine.
“Hi there.” Boone’s voice came through first, meaning she had one millisecond to catch her breath at the arrow of longing that hit her straight in the heart before the video portion of the call kicked in and she had to put on her happy face. “Hi, Jamie!”
On her lap, Jamie’s head swiveled back and forth. Searching.
You’re not the only one, sweetie.
“Hi.” Crap. She had never felt this awkward before, like no matter what she said, it would be the wrong thing.
Though maybe that was because there was nothing right about this situation. All of it was wrong. They should be—okay, not together in the same house, but together in intention, in their hearts, in love. As wrong as the situation had felt when she was waiting for the lawyer, this was infinitely worse.
“Well.” She sat up straighter and brightened her smile. “We’ve had a busy week around here. Did I tell you that someone has learned that he can screech? Like, really loud?”
She chattered on, glancing at her notes as needed, keeping it all about Jamie. She was doing this for Jamie. Her heart might have been ripped out of her chest but her little boy still deserved to know his father, and she would make that happen, damn it.
Jamie, however, seemed to have other ideas. He twisted around on her lap and stared at the door.
“Look, Jamiekins.” She tapped the monitor. “There’s Daddy, right there. See? He’s waving at you.”
Boone waved obligingly. Jamie’s lower lip stuck out.
No. Not more tears, not now.
Boone must have seen the oncoming threat as well, for he leaned forward in his chair. “It’s okay, buddy. I miss you, too.”
Oh, sure. He misses Jamie.
She blinked, not sure where that had come from. She wanted Boone and Jamie to love each other. She wanted them to look forward to visits, to cherish their time together.
It seemed there was a part of her that was too weary and bruised to remember those conditions didn’t have to apply to her, as well.
Jamie slapped the monitor. Kate pulled his hand back but not before Boone’s hand had also come up to press against his screen.
“I got the official invitation to the presentation,” she blurted out, desperate to say something, anything, before reality caught up with her again.
“What presen—oh.” Boone’s expression flipped from curious to closed faster than the sign on an ice cream shop at the end of the hottest day of summer. Too late, she remembered that Boone wouldn’t want to know about the ceremony to officially present the White House silver to the American ambassador. In Boone’s mind, that was nothing but another sign of his inability to be the kind of father Jamie deserved.
“Right. Well. Allie brought another load over yesterday.” That was better. “Her landlady still refuses to believe she’s leaving and keeps offering her new deals. I think the only thing that’s left would be for her to pay Allie to stay.”
“She’s moving in at the end of the month, right?”
Oh, he was good. No one watching would have any idea that he already knew all of this, that he had been in the kitchen with her and Allie as they’d talked about what would come to Kate’s and what would go to Cash’s and what might need to be—God forbid—stored in Maggie’s garage.
“That’s right. We’re looking forward to that, aren’t we, Jamiekins?”
And she was. Once Allie was here, things would be better. There would be another adult on hand to simplify showers and dishes and laundry. The house wouldn’t echo the way it did. There would be a new person using the upstairs bathroom, so Kate would have to put out fresh towels to replace the ones she found herself crying into often.
“Well.” Boone’s smile seemed almost as fake as hers. “Sounds like everything’s rolling along pretty smoothly there.”
Jamie whimpered. Kate steeled herself.
“Absolutely,” she said with all the fake cheer she could muster. “Everything is just fine.”
* * *
IN THE MIDDLE of his second week back, Boone found an unexpected email in his inbox.
Ian North... Cash’s brother... Northstar Foundation...
That was right. Cash had said something about his brother heading up the charitable arm of the family business. He had said something about getting Boone and this brother, Ian, together, but nothing had happened.
Looked like Cash had mentioned Boone and Sonqo anyway. Nothing wrong with that.
Expanding...looking for field operative...equal parts Canada and travel...salary...
Boone stopped breathing.
He checked the salary again.
He did a mental calculation of how many heating bills it could cover, even for a house as needy as Kate’s.
Boone had never been hit by lightning. But he wouldn’t be surprised if it felt a lot like the jittery sensation that had him all but jumping from his seat to prowl the edges of the office.
Jill paused in the middle of a line in the flow chart she was preparing for an upcoming seminar and took in his actions.
“Ants in your pants?”
Her voice brought him back to reality. What was he thinking? He belonged here. If Ian had been talking something part-time, something that could be done from Peru...but no. This was a full-time position. And it wasn’t even a real offer, just an email to let him know about it and invite him to apply.
A job like that would get hundreds of applicants. Boone wouldn’t stand a chance.
“Whatever is going on in that twisted mind of yours, it certainly seems to be interesting,” Jill said. “Because I swear you just zipped through every emotion in the human experience in about thirty seconds flat.”
He couldn’t tell her. He wasn’t going to apply, and even if he did, he wouldn’t get it. So why make her think that he might be leaving? He couldn’t leave. This was his life.
Even if it didn’t feel as alive as it once had.
“Interesting email,” he said.
“From Kate?”
“Of course not.” Jill knew that he got the Jamie report at the end of each day. Why would she think anything had changed?
“Oh.” She waited.
He didn’t offer.
She turned back to her flow chart.
He resumed pacing. Once around the desk...twice, with a stop to refill his coffee en route...three times, with ideas and options and what-ifs dancing through his head...
“Boone?”
“Yeah?”
“Are you going to tell me what’s bothering you, or are you going to haul your restless arse out of here so I can concentrate?”
Mierda.
He headed for the door. His hand was on the knob when she said, “Running away never solved anything, Boone.”
Well, that stopped him in his tracks.
“I’m not running anywhere. I’m leaving so you can do your...”
His voice trailed off, withered by the glare she was sending his way.
“Don’t you dare insult either of us by pretending you don’t know what I’m talking about,” she said softly.
He let go of the doorknob. The mask of bravado he’d been wearing since he came back slipped away and he sagged, every bit of him, like a tent when the frame had been removed.
Jill set her marker on the desk.
“Boone.” She spoke gently. “I know you love this place. I have seen how much you’ve poured into it over the years, and I know how much you have given it, and us. But do you honestly believe that we want you here at the expense of your own family?”
The last thing he needed was for Jill to start badgering him about what was going on.
“We’re not a family,” he said. “Not a real one. So don’t—”
“And where in the hell did you come up with that idea?”
Okay, that was definitely not the response he’d expected.
“Jamie is your son. Kate is your wife. Tell me how that doesn’t make a family.”
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because I’m here and they’re there? Or because the divorce has been started? Or because—”
“Because you’re too chickenshit to try for real?”
He wasn’t sure where this conversation was coming from, but one thing was certain: he didn’t like it.
“The email wasn’t from Kate, okay? So don’t waste your energy coming up with fairy tales about—about any of that.”
Jill watched him, her eyes unreadable behind her glasses. At last she nodded, slowly, like she had been deliberating and then come to a decision.
“You’re fired.”
He went numb. No. More than that. He clearly and distinctly felt himself step outside his body. He stood off to the side, keeping himself safe from harm while a piece of his life splintered and died. And the strangest part, other than the fact that he was watching it all from an oddly removed distance, was that he knew this feeling. He hadn’t lived it since he was a kid, but oh, God, he’d lived it enough times then for it to be carved into his very core.
“You can’t fire me.” He had to speak slowly to get the words out, because his mouth was still operating independently of the part of him that wasn’t participating in this.
She shrugged. “I probably should talk to Craig, true. But once I explain everything to him, he’ll back me up.”
“Really.”
“Absolutely.”
“Then maybe you could explain it to me. Because I sure as hell don’t know where this came from.”
“Sure.” She grabbed her marker and rubbed it back and forth between her palms, the way she always did when she was leading a seminar or a class. “Let me lay it out for you. Craig and I are the executive officers of this foundation. We have the final say in all employee matters. Your work has not been up to par since you came back. You’re distant and snappish and not doing your job the way it needs to be done. Therefore, your employment is being terminated.”
“That’s bullshit.” Bullshit was good. It meant he could argue his way back in, and everything would be right again, and he could stop watching himself from a distance. “You have some crazy idea that I don’t want to be here and I need to go back to Canada to be with Kate and Jamie, because you’re sure that we’re really a happy family that just needs time to work things out. So you think that if you fire me, I’ll have to go back there.”
“Oh, is that what I’m thinking? Good of you to tell me. I had no idea.”
A thin line of sweat broke out along his upper lip. This wasn’t supposed to be happening. “Jill, come on. Look, I...okay...yeah. I haven’t been up to snuff since I got back. I admit it. But that’s...you can’t just fire me. You wouldn’t. I know you. If you really had a problem with my work, you would talk to me about it, the same way you have God knows how many times in the past.”
“Maybe I’ve given you all the chances I can give.” The marker clacked against her rings as she rolled it. “Maybe I’ve reached my limit.”
“That is so—”
“You weren’t supposed to come back here.”
He stepped back. “What does that mean?”
“It means, Boone, that you’re messing up big-time.” She looked toward the ceiling, beseeching the heavens for guidance, no doubt, before leveling that teacher-gaze at him once more. “You don’t need us anymore. We love you. God knows you’re like my own son. But Boone, sometimes your skull is thicker than the rocks in the ruins. You shouldn’t be here. You should be back home—”
“This is home.”
The words burst out of him. He didn’t mean to say it, didn’t mean to feel it, but as soon as the words were out there, he knew it was true. This was home. He had known it but never admitted it, because he knew what would happen if he did. It was the same thing that had happened every goddamned time.
Home was the place that sucked you in and then spit you out. Home was the place you had to leave.
“Oh, Boone.” Jill’s voice did a 180—almost mocking one second, total sympathy the next. “Boone, having you here—having you with Craig and me—it saved us. I know you think that we were trying to help you, and yeah, that was part of it. But you...you gave us a new focus. You gave us new hope. We wanted to build this community and make this place work, and we probably would have done it anyway, but when you came to live with us...it gave us a new reason to be here. We knew that you had so much promise. That all you needed was a fresh start in a place where nobody had hung any labels on you, where you didn’t have a past that sucked. But we needed that new beginning just as much as you did.” She paused. “Probably even more.”
He closed his eyes, reliving Jamie’s wide, confused eyes; the guttural sound Kate had made as she’d flipped Jamie onto her knee; the hot fist of fear that had grabbed his own gut and twisted it as he’d grasped what was happening and then the crippling assault of what-ifs.
He couldn’t begin to comprehend what Craig and Jill had gone through when their daughter died. But if those two or three seconds of terror were any clue, then his wonder at their ability to go on had become limitless.
“But, Boone, you’re wrong about something. This isn’t your home. It was, for a long time, and I can understand, a bit, how hard it would be for you of all people to have to leave the only real home you’ve known. But nobody is kicking you out this time. Nobody is dragging you away. It’s your own heart that’s leading you away, because it isn’t here anymore.”
That kick in his gut? Yeah. Recognition.
“Oh, I know a part of you will always live here. But the biggest piece is precisely where it should be. In Canada. And that’s where you should be, as a father to your son and maybe even, God willing, building something with his mother, because it’s obvious to everyone that you’re in love with her.”
Well, so much for thinking he’d kept that hidden.
“You’re not going to leave me with any illusions about privacy or keeping things to myself, are you?”
“Of course not. Mothers never do.” She tipped her head, her eyes twinkling. “You might as well tell me what was in that email. You know I’m going to worm it out of you anyway.”
Since it seemed he was no longer allowed to hold on to any of his delusions, he didn’t bother answering. He simply pulled up the email, pulled out the chair and gestured for her to sit.
She read it.
She sat back.
She folded her hands primly in her lap.
“You want to tell me why you’re wasting time pacing like an idiot when you should be polishing up your résumé?”
“Because I—”
“And if your excuses have anything to do with Craig and me, or Project Sonqo, or any idiotic notion that you’re not qualified for the job, you can stop right there.”
And there went his dignity, too.
“There’s no guarantee that I’d get it.”
She rolled her eyes. “Of course not. But if the head of the foundation is encouraging you to apply, your chances are definitely up there.” The chair squeaked as she leaned forward. “If you’re looking for guarantees, Boone—in jobs, or life, or especially in love—well, I’d say you picked the wrong planet to live on. The brutal truth is that none of us get out of this unhurt. Some of us get slapped around a lot more than the rest. But the only alternative is to spend the rest of your days living the way you are now. Running. Hiding. Terrified. I don’t know about you, but I’d rather take the chance and see what happens. Because you could get hurt, yeah. Or you could end up in the middle of the messiest, happiest kind of life that you could ever imagine.”
He didn’t need to imagine it. He knew.
Just as he knew precisely why he didn’t dare grab what had been offered.
“But what if I’m the one doing the hurting?”
She sat up so straight and so fast that the chair scooted backward. “What the—where on earth did that—”
Then she got it.
“You think that history is doomed to repeat itself.”
He couldn’t answer. Not with words, not even with a nod. It was too shameful, too terrifying to admit to this woman who had never been anything but an amazing mother and had lost her child anyway.
But Jill wasn’t having any part of that.
“Is this a hypothetical fear? Or did something happen?”
It took him three tries before he could get the answer out there. “Yeah. Something...”
It was like a faucet had been opened. No, more like a fire hydrant. Once he’d started, he couldn’t stop. He told Jill everything, from the worries that had gripped him the minute he’d stepped off the plane until that moment when he could have killed his kid without even trying. By the time he was done he was back in his chair, slumped in the seat, staring at the floor so he wouldn’t have to see Jill’s reaction.
When he finally finished, he made himself sit straight, though he still couldn’t look at her.
“Are you done?” she asked, not unkindly.
Done. Yeah, that was the word of the moment.
“Guess so.”
“I have a question for you. How did you spend the months before you went back home? Not here at work, but when you were off duty.”
“I—the same as always, I guess. Cooking. Hanging out. Reading.”
“I saw what you were reading, Boone. Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m asking. There were so many books about parenting and childcare in your place that you could have stocked your own aisle in a major city bookstore.”
He didn’t have to look at her to know she was rolling her eyes.
“Next question. How the hell do you think Kate knew what to do when Jamie was choking?”
“She had training. Right. But Jill, I—”
“You think it’s different with you. You think you can’t learn anything that really matters, like how to take care of your own son. You think you’re not smart enough or strong enough to do the things everyone else can do, or that there’s no way you’ll ever do it right so there’s no point in even trying.” Her voice hardened. “In other words, you think everything your mother ever said about you is true.”
Good God. If Jill didn’t stop driving the breath out of his lungs, he was going to hit the floor at any moment.
“Parenting isn’t something you’re born knowing, Boone. It’s learned. Some people have more of a natural inclination, true, just like some weavers have a better eye than others. But it’s a skill. It can be learned. And if you were taught wrong by your first teacher, then guess what? You can learn new skills.”
“It’s not that easy.”
“Who said it was?” She leaned forward, one finger leveled at him. “But you know damned well that it would be more than worth the work.”
She was missing the point. “For me, it would be worth it. But what about Jamie? Say I got this job and went back. Say I tell Kate, hey, I want to give this a shot after all. How does Jamie play into that? He’s the one who’s going to pay the price when I mess up. He’s the one whose happiness is on the line, Jill, and there’s no way I’m going to risk—”
He stopped. Not because he was out of words, but because of the silly, goofy smile on Jill’s face.
“Do you hear yourself, you idiot? You’re not worried about you. You’re worried about Jamie. You’re putting him first. That right there tells me everything I need to know about your ability to be a good father.”
“But—” he started, then stopped as her words sunk into him.
“Good.” She nodded. “You’ve stopped talking and started listening. Best move you’ve made all day.”
He wanted to glare, but he couldn’t quite pull it off. Probably because he was too busy listening to the small whisper of hope her words had fired inside him.
Jill rose from her chair with a groan, shuffling over to him and bending so her face was level with his. “Keep listening, Boone. And while you’re at it, polish up your résumé and apply for that job. It’s time for you to find your own Project Sonqo.”
What the—
Oh. Right. How could he have forgotten?
In Quechua, sonqo meant heart.