Dani
I didn’t remember mothering a newborn being this hard. I may be older and wiser this time around, but let’s face it, I’m also older and, well, older.
I could hardly blame little Myles. He was probably sensing all the tension in the house. Stress does seem to build when someone shoots out your front windows, a family member is hit by a car, and another is both blackmailed and physically attacked. It wasn’t a good autumn for the McCords.
I was lying on the couch with Myles finally asleep on my chest. He’d been awake practically all night, took about a five-minute break around seven a.m., then continued to cry until now, two o’clock in the afternoon. My eyes burned from lack of sleep, but I could only imagine what my poor little guy’s vocal chords and lungs felt like. He took tiny shuddering breaths, still coming down from the crying jag that ended moments ago. I lifted my head a tad, being careful not to move my body a fraction of a fraction. His face was rosy from all his exertion, his mouth open, lips quivering with each exhale. His binkie had fallen centimeters from his mouth, balanced on my chest like the cliché ball on a seal’s nose.
I closed my eyes, bringing my arm up slowly to plop it across my forehead. Peace. Sweet peace. I swallowed a moan, fearing any noise might disturb Myles’ sleep.
I need to rest…rest…rest.
My ears were ringing. After all the concerts I’d been to, it was going to be a baby who gave me hearing problems? With each passing moment, my tense muscles gave way to the couch cushions, melting from exhaustion, seeming too tired to even support the skin covering them. I breathed in and out. The silence was deafening. In a good way. I drifted off, my thoughts becoming muddled.
Oh. My. God. Sleep is glorious.
The drool was beginning to pool in my mouth.
Let it come. Sweet Lord, let it come.
I was in the twilight before completely slipping under—neither awake nor asleep—when bombs exploded.
Darren? My eyes snapped open. Light streamed in the newly replaced front windows.
Oh, no. Not the nightmares again. Not when I need sleep the most.
Everyone had a breaking point. Mine loomed larger with each minute spent in a conscious state.
Bam.
I jumped. Myles took up his wailing like he’d never stopped.
Bam. Bam. Bam.
I blinked. Oh. It wasn’t bombs. Someone was knocking at the door. Visitors? Not now. I had to look a mess.
Bam.
“What is so all-fired important?” I mumbled as I clutched Myles against me and struggled to a seated position. “I’m coming,” I tried to yell over the staccato screams of my newborn. Little lungs can’t hold a note long. I used to think it was cute. When it was other people’s babies.
Bam.
“Coming!” I screamed desperately, tears forming in my eyes, twinning with the ones in Myles’. I was losing it. I scrambled to my feet and lumbered to the foyer. “Coming. Coming.” I reached the entrance, fumbled with the lock, then yanked the door open.
“Oh, thank God you’re here.” A shadow, along with the mass who created it, rushed past me. I squinted in the sunlight, with mole-like intensity, peering outside to make sure she was alone before closing the door.
I jiggled the baby. “Sorry. He’s been a bit fussy.”
“Sounds like it,” she responded irritably.
I bristled. You have NO idea.
Tara Devine had been my neighbor since the day I moved in, not all that long ago, and my husband Tucker’s for much longer. Though a trifle self-centered and given to preaching, she had a good heart. And occasionally, gems of wisdom were hidden in her monologues. She was ten years my senior and so was a good source when I was stumped about how to handle a situation with the kids, or even helpful with something as mundane as where to find a good dry cleaner. And she was a lunch lady, as I was pre-Myles, so we had that in common.
She glanced around, and I scanned the room, too. A half-eaten bowl of cereal sat on the coffee table, a Diet Pepsi keeping it company. Myles’ blue baby blankie was on the floor midway between the swinging kitchen door and the couch. When did I drop that? A beige comforter was mounded on the couch where my feet had been minutes before, as I drifted into blessed sleep.
Oh, sleep….
I shook myself. Tara had turned to look at me, hands fisted on her hips and a raised eyebrow chastising me for the chaos surrounding her.
Oh. Please, don’t. I don’t want to go off on you, and I will if you say one critical word. I will. I swear it.
Instead, she held out her hands and I gratefully passed Myles to her. The tiny traitor calmed in her arms, and as she rocked with him, I occasionally could see his eyes, wide and wet with tears, staring at her as if she was the creature from the deep lagoon.
“Sh-sh-sh,” she cooed to Myles. “No need for all that carrying on, little mister.” He released a trembling exhale and continued giving her moon eyes. She raised her head to look at me. “You look like hell.”
I clenched my teeth, ducking my head so she wouldn’t notice, and scooping the bowl and soda can from the table. “Gee, thanks.”
She placed a hand on my shoulder. “I’m sorry, Dani. I’m kind of out of sorts.”
It would seem to be the day for that. “Why? What’s going on?” Tara followed me as I shuffled toward the kitchen.
“You know…” she said in a suspiciously friendly manner, ignoring my question. “With some extra money coming in, you could afford to hire a maid.”
I slammed the bowl and can on the counter, gripping the edge and counting to ten in my head. I got to three before spinning around. “You know, Tara, I was up all night. So if you have something you wanted to say, now would be the time.”
“Well,” she snapped back, handing me Myles, who started to wail again. “Obviously I came at a bad time.”
She turned to leave, and I was so tempted to let her. But she was the only other person I’d seen all day, and I needed someone to talk to. “Wait,” I said a hair too loudly, and a lot too desperately. “I’m sorry, Tara. Please don’t go. It’s just…sleep deprivation is a really evil thing….”
She whirled, her mouth opening, a comeback teetering on her lips, but she swallowed it and was uncharacteristically quiet. I could tell gears were turning in that head of hers. I imagined rusty gears, as I was still a tad grumpy. Tara smiled, and my heartrate accelerated. Whatever brought her to my door was now keeping her silent. It must be a powerful thing to keep her from prattling on. Myles must have sensed it, too, because he gave one final yell before falling to sleep on my chest. He was sweet when he slept. Tara walked past me to the sink, picking up the bowl I’d set on the counter and tipping it to dump the remains of the cereal down the drain.
“You want to know why I’m here? Fair enough.” She started taking dirty dishes from the sink and setting them on the counter.
“Thanks, Tara, but I can—” I reached toward the sink and she slapped my hand. Hard. “Ow!”
“Oops. Sorry. I did that with more force than I intended.”
I quirked my lips, looking at her sideways, wishing my other hand was free to rub the sting away. “Yeah. Sure you did.”
She smiled, too. Her first genuine smile since crossing my threshold. “I am sorry,” she said contritely, turning on the tap to rinse a dish. She set it with the rest and filled the sink. Adding what I considered an exorbitant amount of Dawn to the water, she looked over at me. “Tanya told us today she’s pregnant.”
“Really?” Tanya was her co-worker and also one of our neighbors. “That’s wonderful. I bet she and Robert are thrilled.”
“Oh, they are. They are.” She added dishes to the water, watching one by one as they slid under the surface of the mounds of suds like a descending submarine. Again, I winced at the uncommon, unnerving quiet.
I turned to rest my backside against the cabinets. “So why aren’t you happy for them?”
“Oh, I am.” She plucked a plate from its watery grave and doused it with still more soap before wiping it with a dish towel that was far too big to be working well, but I bit my tongue. How about that? It was possible not to correct someone when they’re doing things wrong. Who knew? Tara tilted her head. “But…she’s spotting.”
I inhaled sharply. “Tanya is?”
She nodded.
“That’s not good. How far along is she?”
“Ten weeks. The doctor wants her on bedrest.” She shook her head as if our friend and her baby’s health problem was an annoyance to her.
“Well, I think that’s wise, don’t you?”
She acted as if considering that. “Yes. Probably. Being as it’s her first baby and all.”
“Is she upset?”
“She’s trying to act like she’s not, but she is. In fact, I think she’s scared shitless.” The first ounce of compassion peeked out from around Tara’s shield of prickliness.
“Oh. That’s a shame. I’ll have to bring her dinner. Robert’s not much of a cook, is he?”
Tara laughed. “No. Tanya said last night he made a roast…by boiling it.”
“Ooh.” I chuckled. “I bet that was tough to get down.”
“No. Get this.” She laid a soapy hand on my arm. “When his back was turned, she fed it to Ginny.” Their golden retriever. “When Robert took his first bite, he spit it out. He went out to get Tai food at that new place.”
I grinned. “Yeah. I better bring them dinner as soon as possible.” I glanced at Myles. “As soon as I get more than forty-five minutes of consecutive sleep, that is.”
“So….”
I studied her profile. She approached her subject with the care of a lion trainer. “Dani. What do we have in common?”
I smirked. “We both spend ungodly amounts of time trying to fit one more dish in the dishwasher?”
“Well, yes. But what else?”
“Hmm….” What could she be getting at? “Neither of us likes that female sports reporter on Channel 5.”
“That’s true. She’s way too perky. Irks the heck out of me.”
“No kidding.”
“But…it’s not that, either.”
I wracked my brain. “We both have a predilection for Zesto’s ice cream.”
“Best thing that ever happened in this neighborhood is when your Zoe went to work there. But no. Think bigger picture.”
“Tara.” I sighed. “My brain is a bit hazy from lack of sleep. Help me out here.”
She carefully placed a dessert bowl on the towel she’d stretched out on my counter. I suddenly wondered why she wasn’t using the dishwasher, and why I hadn’t noticed that. “I may have a solution for that.”
“I’m not giving him Benadryl.”
“Dani,” she huffed. She moved her sudsy hands, gesturing from her chest to mine, dropping a mound between us. “We are both….” She spoke slowly, as if that would help me understand better.
“Dark-haired? Aquarians? Mothers?”
“Lunch ladies, Dani. We’re lunch ladies!” she screamed.
Myles lifted his sleepy head at the racket, blinking, then laid the opposite cheek on me and fell back asleep.
“Sorry,” she whispered.
“You are a lunch lady. I’m a former lunch lady, now a lady of leisure.” I had taken to calling myself that. It had a ring to it.
She circled a finger in the air, scattering more poofs of soap. “I wouldn’t call this leisure.”
“True. I work harder at home than I ever did at my job. Oh, shit.” I remembered I didn’t get chicken out to thaw for dinner. I crossed the kitchen to grab it out of the freezer.
“That’s why I’m here to offer you a break.”
“You want to take the kids for the weekend so Tucker and I can go to Hawaii?” I knew this wasn’t what she was suggesting, but I had to throw it out there on the odd chance.
She rolled her eyes. “Yeah. Right.”
I plopped the bag of frozen chicken into the sink she wasn’t using. It clattered around like a piece of wood. We both stared at it.
“You know that’s not going to thaw in time for dinner.”
I turned to her. “I know,” I said flatly.
“And you shouldn’t—”
“Thaw food in the sink. Don’t give me that health department danger zone speech. I know the drill. This is not for a school-load of kids, it’s for my family.” I eyed it again. “They’ll survive.”
She gave me a long, appraising look.
“Come work for me at the school.”
I gaped for a moment, before managing an, “Are you out of your mind?”
“No. Wait. Hear me out.”
“I’m listening. But your talk needs to get a lot more lucid.”
“Mrs. McCovey said she’d take Myles free of charge so you could help me out.”
Mrs. McCovey was our neighbor, too. “You talked to her?”
“Yes. I had to put the pieces in place before I could approach you.”
I opened my mouth to say something. Then closed it again. I could barely function as it was. She wanted me to take on a new job? I jerked my head toward the living room. “Come with me. I have to put him down.”
She blew out a breath as we passed through the door. “Oh. Do you think that’s a good idea?”
“No.” I bent over the bassinet to ease Myles away from me, his natural electric blanket. I held my breath as I separated from him. He wiggled a miniature, shaking fist, but sighed and didn’t wake.
I exhaled and smiled, rubbing my biceps. “My arms were turning into Jell-O.”
“So you’ll consider it.”
I stopped stroking my arm. “Did I say that?”
“No, but I can see it in your eyes.”
I rubbed them. “You’re misreading. They’re just bloodshot.”
“It’ll give you a chance to get out of the house for a bit.” She ticked fingers off. “It’ll give Myles a chance to explore a new environment.” Finger two. “It’ll help Tanya out,” three “and it’ll help me out.” She stared at her thumb for a moment before adding, “And Mrs. McCovey is a very nice lady.”
“What does that have to do with it?”
“Myles will love it there.”
I hesitated. I did miss having another life, outside of the home.
She stuck her other hand up. “It’s only half a day, Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. Krissy Anne said she’d take on Tanya’s Tuesdays and Thursdays.” A finger on her other hand was raised. “You don’t work on holidays. You’ll bring in a little of your own cash. Could help with those college savings. You’ll get to be around kids. You know you love that. And…” Again she was stuck with the lone thumb. She searched around the room, licking her lips. “You can sometimes bring leftovers home.” She grinned, slapping her arms back to her sides and rocking from her toes to her heels, clearly proud of herself.
I tilted my head. “Come on. We both know taking cafeteria leftovers home is not a plus.”
“The cookies,” she pointed out.
“Oh, yeah. The cookies.” I had fond memories of the cookies from my last school.
She grasped my upper arms and gave me a slight shake. “Come on. Say you’ll at least consider it.”
“All right, I’ll at least consider it.”
“There you go. See. I knew you’d be agreeable.” She moved with me to the door.
“The answer’s still going to be no, but I’ll consider it.”
She shook a finger at me. “Now, now. Keep an open mind.”
I stopped in my tracks, flabbergasted by her persistence. I mean, who in their right mind would go back to work part-time for a paltry salary? Sure, physically I could do it. After weeks of recovery from my car “accident”—if that’s what it’s called when a car jumps the curb and rams your body into a storefront, then drives away—the doctor had cleared me for all activities just yesterday. She climbed the few stairs to our front door, opened it, but paused with her hand on the knob. “I’ll be back for your answer.” She smiled, perhaps a little evilly, and backed out the door. “Good night,” she murmured.
I stared at the door for a second then ambled back over to the bassinet, gazing at my baby.
What do you think, Myles? Could you use a change in environment?
I couldn’t believe I was actually thinking about it. It was crazy, right? But for some reason, I was tempted. I trudged over to the couch and fell into it.
Twenty minutes later, the door creaked open, slammed shut, and feet pounded on the hardwood. I’m not sure which woke Myles, but he was screaming again.
I wanted to cry. “ARE YOU KIDDING ME?”
Zoe stopped halfway up the steps. “Oh, I’m sorry, Dani.” She spun around and came back. “I wasn’t thinking.”
I pressed Myles’ binkie into his mouth but he pushed it out with his tongue. “It’s okay.” I sighed and turned to her. “I’m sorry I yelled.”
She scrunched her forehead. “Bad day?”
“You could say that.”
“I’ll watch him for a bit.”
I hesitated, but she plucked him from the crib and bounced him gently. His volume decreased. She was going to be a good mother someday.
“You go upstairs and take a nap.” She was an awesome daughter right now.
I looked at the long flight of steps. “I’m too tired to attempt the stairs.”
I returned to the couch, lay down, and rolled, putting my back to the room. Yanking the covers over my head, I mumbled, “Good night.”
The sound of Zoe’s feet padding as she walked back and forth with Myles, singing James Taylor’s “Sweet Baby James,” as I often did, lulled me. Her soft crooning and rhythmic walking were the last sounds I registered before I crashed.
A half hour later, Zoe’s boyfriend/our neighbor, Zack, honked the horn of his Cobra. Zoe squealed and bolted for the door. “Zack’s home early.”
I sat quickly, searching for my bundle of joy. “Don’t—” bang “—slam the door,” I finished, defeated. Sure enough, wails rose from the bassinet.
I wonder what the world record for a baby continuously crying is?
I swallowed a whimper and rose to change and feed Myles, hoping that might calm him.
Zoe
Halfway across the lawn I realized I had slammed the door. I came to a stop, sucking air in between my teeth, and spun to look at the house, grimacing. “Ooh….” Although I knew Myles was probably screaming his head off inside, I convinced myself all looked quiet, my guilt over waking him fleeting in light of who I was running to.
Zack! All luscious six-foot-one, one hundred and seventy-three pounds of him.
I could say that now because we were dating. Unbelievable. I was so lucky.
Zack was getting something out of the trunk when our other best friend, Nick, nudged him and pointed in my direction. Zack looked over, and the smile on his face was electrifying. At least it was sending waves of some sort through me. He took a few steps toward me and was ready when I leaped into his arms and wrapped my legs around him. Our lips became tangled next, and our tongues, then….
Someone cleared their throat. Zack drew back, and I twisted my head as he lowered his, color painting his face. Zack’s mom had gotten out on the other side of the car and was staring at us pointedly.
“Oh.” My head was still fuzzy from Zack’s kiss. “Hi, Mrs. Issaacs.”
“Hello, Zoe.”
She was trying to pull off one of those parental stern looks, but the corners of her lips gave her away. She was amused, not mad. Zack put me on my feet but not before running his hands over my ass where his mom couldn’t see it. He stared into my face in a way that made everything else disappear. Until Nick shoved him and he stumbled forward, grabbing my arms so he wouldn’t bump into me.
“Geesh. Get a room already.”
Zack turned back to him. “What? Jealous?”
It was meant as a harmless taunt, but struck a chord. Nick had asked me out before Zack and I became a thing.
Realizing his mistake, Zack tried to backpedal. “Hey, man. I wasn’t thinking—oof.” Nick had shoved a duffle bag into his midsection and Zack winced, which seemed to satisfy Nick.
He gave me a smile. “Hey, Zo.”
“Hey, Nick.” I stuck my hands in my back pockets, suddenly uncomfortable. I sensed something—no. It couldn’t be. Nick got over my rejection a month ago. I was misreading the look on his face. Had to be. My throat was tight, but I managed to ask, “Nice trip?”
We all headed toward the house. Zack’s mom was ahead of us, so we took our time, creating some distance from her.
“Yeah,” Nick answered for them. “Zack really liked it. I don’t know how you’re going to survive when he’s seven hours away from—ow!”
Zack had elbowed him in the ribs.
I stopped dead in my tracks, my heart dropping, heavier than my backpack on finals week. “You—You decided?” Panic seeped into my voice, and, at the same time, adrenaline surged through my veins.
Nick put an arm around Zack’s back, clapping him on the shoulder. “Yeah. Zack’s a University of Colorado-Denver Linx.”
“Oh.” I stumbled back a step or two.
Zack brushed Nick off, grabbing my arms. “I was going to tell you, later,” he added with venom, half turning his head back to Nick. “In private.”
I jerked out of his grip, knowing the tears were racing each other to my eyelids. “No. That’s okay. Like…I knew this was a possibility. I’m just gonna go—” I walked quickly away. I didn’t want them to see me break down like some junior high student. Of course my boyfriend was going away to college soon. I knew that. I’d simply put off thinking about it. Now, suddenly, it seemed so real.
“Zoe,” Zack called. I waved him away.
“What the hell did you do that for?” He must have turned on Nick. I could tell he was really pissed.
“What are you talking about, man? I didn’t think it was some big secret. I thought you texted her.”
“I wanted to tell her in person. But you ruined that, didn’t you?”
“Hey, hey…” That’s all I heard before their voices faded out, drowned out by the beating of my heart. I’d loved him for so long. Now he was mine, but he was going away to college? It wasn’t fair.
You’ve got almost two years before he leaves, Zoe. Two years.
But it wasn’t enough. Wasn’t nearly enough.
Zack
I could have killed Nick. He knew how Zoe would react. Knew her almost as well as I did. But not quite…. A smile slid over my face as I unpacked my bag and threw dirty clothes in the general direction of my laundry bag.
Nick didn’t know how sweet it was to kiss her. It stirred me like no one else I’d kissed. He didn’t know how much she could turn a guy on with the sensual way she moved beneath him…pressing into him, writhing…. Not that we’d gone all the way, but…we’d come as near as we could to crossing that line without stepping over, teetered on the edge, so close it scared me the lack of control she brought out in me. My smile grew wider, and I plopped onto my bed, sitting on the edge and removing my shirt. I smelled it, made a face, and tossed it with the rest.
I ran my hands over my chest, thinking about the way she did the same thing, but with small, soft hands. I couldn’t stop thinking about her…the things we’d shared together that we’d given to nobody else. The times we’d almost gotten caught.
But I always came back to the same memory. The night she’d first taken her shirt off for me.
She was babysitting at a neighbor’s house. The kids were asleep. It started innocently enough. Just some kissing. But pretty soon my fingers were buried in her hair. She’d worked open my shirt and ran her hands over my bare skin. Every step nearer to her, I needed to get even closer. Be swallowed up in her. Become a part of her. Share a physical oneness like the melding of the rest of us.
The lights were out but the combination of moonlight, streetlight, and a light above the stove in the next room, gave us enough illumination to see each other well. It was serious what we did. Dead serious.
Oh, man. The way the light kissed her curves. I had to take a second to admire that, take it all in, memorize it for later. But pretty quickly it wasn’t the kitchen light kissing her curves anymore, it was me.
I would have taken her that night. I wouldn’t have been able to resist her quiet urgings, were we not swept by the headlights from the Brettenachers’ car as they turned into their driveway.
“Shit! Shit!” I scrambled to find my shirt, which I had tossed aside without care. “I thought you said they’d be out past midnight.” I found her bra and threw it to her, then tried to tug my underwear on, knocking my shins against the coffee table repeatedly as I bounced around, trying to balance on one leg.
“They told me they’d be back in the early morning hours and they would pay me double. Do you think they saw us?”
I looked over at the windows and tried to figure the angles. “No. We were probably too low.”
“Probably?”
She was in Zoe panic mode. And I think, right at that moment, I loved her more than ever before. She was almost dressed. The keys were in the door. I should have been gone. But I grabbed her, and kissed her one last time. She stopped her frantic movements and responded to me. The back door creaked open, and Zoe slapped at me. Hissing. “Get out! Zachariah Avery get out of here this second.” I grinned and snuck out.
I was halfway down the sidewalk when Mr. Brettenacher opened the front door. “Zack?”
I stopped, dread gnawing at my stomach as I turned around slowly.
“How’d you get here so fast?”
“Uhh….”
“I texted him as soon as I saw your headlights.” Zoe stepped out the door.
Mr. Brettenacher looked along the street in the direction of my house and frowned. “You were headed the other direction when I came out.”
“I thought I’d dropped my keys, but they were in my pocket.”
“Hmm….” He looked back into the living room, and Zoe hurried toward me.
She looked me in the eye, relaxing her shoulders. “Good night, Mr. Brettenacher. And thanks.”
He faced us again and exhaled. He gave us a smile. “No, thank you, Zoe. Have a good night.”
“You, too.”
Zoe waved at him. When the door shut, she heaved a big sigh. “Oh, my gosh. That was too close.” She looked at me and we laughed. We took hands and headed home.
“What did you tell him about the lights being off?”
She shrugged smugly. “Told him I had a headache and I was resting my eyes. He said his kids give him headaches all the time, too.”
I stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and turned to her. “Sexy and smart.”
“You’ve got it.” And we kissed.
And now, millions of kisses later, she wasn’t answering my texts. Typical Zoe. Ignore the problem and maybe it will go away. Only this time it was her not wanting me to go away. It’s not like I wanted to either. But how could I reject a full ride scholarship? University of Nebraska offered me squat and cost more than I, and my single mom, could afford.
I peered through my window at hers. No movement. Was this what it all came down to? Money? Was I choosing money over Zoe? But I knew I really wasn’t choosing anything above her. I had no choice. And I’d be back. Seven hours wasn’t insurmountable.
I hung my head. It sure wasn’t like being able to walk her to classes. Have her to kiss good night every night. But it was just something we’d need to get through. Our love could handle that.
At least that’s what I told myself.
Tucker
My secretary, Jeanie, greeted me as I walked in the door. She looked as though she’d been waiting for me.
“Someone’s in your office.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Dani and the baby?”
“You wish. Some woman named Sally Beckwith?”
Her name wasn’t ringing any bells. “Is she a client?”
“Not that I can tell. Her name isn’t showing up anywhere in our files.”
I tilted my head. “And you let her into my office?”
“More like she didn’t give me a choice. But I’ve been watching her on the monitor. She hasn’t moved from her seat. I was just going to call security.”
I came around to her side of the desk and looked at her monitor. It wasn’t the greatest picture, but the woman did look vaguely familiar.
“Hmm…let me see what she wants first.”
Jeanie hesitated. “O-o-okay. But give me the high sign if you need security.”
I smiled, trying to reassure her. “You’ve got it.”
When I walked into the room the woman rose. I stuck out my hand. “Good afternoon. I’m Tucker McCord.”
She gave a weak smile, her face tight. Shaking her hand was like holding a dead fish. “Sally Beckwith.”
“So my secretary said.”
I crossed to my desk and stood behind my big brown leather chair, gripping the top. It was my one splurge in an otherwise modest work area. I had a small, unadorned wood desk with a glass top, and three-feet-tall, glass-fronted antique lawyer shelves lined the walls on both sides, an estate find. I put a lot of work into refinishing them and was happy with the outcome. I had also put some money into the chairs facing my desk. I wanted my clients to be comfortable. Some of them found visiting a lawyer intimidating. The carpet was nice, too, but the space itself was tiny compared to my partners’ offices. I found that suited me. I was a simple man, and I didn’t feel the need to pretend to be anything different.
From the vantage point behind my desk, I was able to get a good look at my visitor for the first time. She wore a casual down coat—with feathers sticking out of the seams here and there—over a dressier black skirt and white blouse. She took a seat, crossed her legs, and immediately bounced her foot in a rapid, jerky motion.
I’d seen the same movement before, in this room. Why couldn’t I remember?
“What can I do for you, Ms. Beckwith?” Before she could answer I interjected, exasperated, “I’m sorry, but do we know each other.”
“Yes. Yes.” Her smile seemed more confident, her voice uplifted.
“You’ve been here before. Many years ago….”
An image flashed through my head. The same bouncing foot, but she was wearing tattered jeans and a band T-shirt. A band I didn’t recognize. She was young—twenty, twenty-two. Time hadn’t been good to her. She’d aged far more than the years that passed between.
“Yes. I came in with my boy, Benji.”
I smiled. “Yes. I remember him. Cute kid. He’d have to be…fifteen or sixteen by now?”
“Eighteen.”
“Wow. Really? Eighteen.”
“You played with Benji.”
“Yes.” I took a seat, focusing in on an object on my desk.
My grandfather had given me this desk “toy.” Seven silver balls were suspended by wire in a straight line. When one of the balls was drawn back, then released, it clanked against the next ball, causing the ball on the opposite end of the line to swing up. When, on its downward swing, it hit the ball next to it, the first ball would be set into motion again and the pattern would repeat. If two of the balls were pulled back, two from the opposite side would react in a similar way, and would continue doing so for some time. They really were sort of mesmerizing. When some problem stumped me, I would often place the toy in the middle of my desk and follow its rhythmic motion. For some reason, it cleared my thinking, much like when my son Scott used to toss a ball to focus his thoughts. He hadn’t done that in a while. I missed it.
The toy demonstrated, I suppose, one of Newton’s laws of physics, for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. Perhaps an appropriate thought for a lawyer’s office, where negative actions, crimes, were met with negative consequences, imprisonment. That is, if the system worked, which it seldom did.
I probed my mind more. The boy was whining, which agitated her all the more, so I showed him my grandfather’s gift. Of all the kids I’d had in my office since, her Benji was the most captivated by it.
I stared at her again, and my memories began to unfold. “You wanted a divorce from an abusive spouse.” She’d had a split lip, and bruising at her temple and all up and down her arms. “We set an appointment for the next day, but you never showed. I tried to find you at the address you gave us,” a rundown mobile home held together with duct tape, “but no one ever came to the door.”
She nodded rapidly. “I was there. He had a gun to Benji’s head and threatened to blow his brains out if I made a peep.”
Her words struck me. They’d been there, held at gunpoint, while I was a thin, cracked door away. “I…I’m so sorry. If I’d known—”
She waved it off. “There was no way for you to know.” She wrung her hands. “It doesn’t matter now. That son-of-a-bitch—literally, by the way—he’s dead. Met with an unfortunate accident.” She raised her eyebrows and her smile made my skin crawl. I didn’t want to know. “I’ve remarried, and my husband is good to me.”
“If that’s the case, I don’t know how I can—”
“I’ve come about Benji.”
“I don’t understand. What can I do to help your son?” She wasn’t looking me in the eye. Something wasn’t right. She wasn’t telling me something.
“He got himself in some trouble. But he’s a good kid. You remember?”
“Well, yes, but….” Something dawned on me. “Wait. What was your last name when you first came to me? It wasn’t Beckwith, because you said you’d remarried.”
Her lip quivered slightly and her eyes darted around. She looked at me finally. “Oat-Oatam.”
Oatam? Why did that name sound familiar to me? Oatam? Oatam? Sally Oatam and Benj—Ben Oatam! The bastard who tried to rape Zoe.
Her son was in jail for trying to rape my daughter. I bolted out of my seat. “This is inappropriate. We shouldn’t be talking.”
“Wait. Please.”
I came to an abrupt stop on my way to the door and turned to her. “I can’t believe…” Words wouldn’t come. I stuck my head out the door. “Jeanie. Call security.” I didn’t trust myself at that point.
She already had the phone to her ear.
Sally Oatam Beckwith stood. “No. Please, Mr. McCord. Hear me out.”
“I have nothing to say to you.”
“He didn’t mean to hurt your daughter. Things just got a little out of hand.”
That took the cake.
“A little out of hand?” My voice rose in volume and pitch. I stormed over to the desk and scrambled around, searching for the right file folder, cursing when it didn’t come immediately to my fingertips. When I snatched it up I was surprised to see my hands were shaking. I took what I was looking for out and dropped the rest to the floor. I shoved the photos at her. “Zoe was smart enough to take pictures after ‘things got out of hand.’”
She turned away. “Don’t.”
I grabbed her arm. I was losing control, and I didn’t care. “No. You’re going to see what he did to her. See this here?”
“I don’t want to—” She was crying.
Jeanie stuck her head in, no doubt worried I was going to either kill this woman or literally explode all over the room. “Tucker,” she warned in a quiet voice.
I continued to push the photos in front of the woman. “Look at it! That is what happened to her face when your son sent her sprawling in the parking lot.”
Jeanie’s mouth fell open. “Is this the mother of—”
“Yes. This is the mother of the kid who tried to rape my daughter.”
“No!” Sally shouted. “He wouldn’t do that. It was an accident.”
“Oh,” I dropped the picture on top to the floor. “Are these gashes on her chest an accident?”
The woman peeked at them out of the corner of her eye. She couldn’t help but look at what her son did. She stilled.
“That’s what happened when he dragged Zoe across the pavement.” I dropped it and she turned away. “There’s more. Bruises, cuts…and she couldn’t take pictures of what he did to her on the inside. Do you know what it’s like to hear your child scream in terror in the middle of the night because the images of what happened to her won’t go away?”
She whirled around, ferocious. “Yes! Yes, I know what that’s like.”
Security arrived, and I held my hand up to signal for them to wait. I wanted to know what she meant by that.
She took a step toward me. Her eyes flashed and spittle flew from her mouth as she spoke. “Yes. I know. I wish I didn’t, but I know. And Benji knows.” She seemed to lose some of her energy. “He knows too much.”
I waited, but she didn’t speak. “Care to elaborate?”
“I told you my husband wasn’t a nice man. The first one.” Sally glanced at Jeanie and the officers, unwilling witnesses to the mess her son created. She shook her head then raised it. “He used to beat and rape me every single night, unless he was too drunk to come home. And the bastard would make Benji watch. It wasn’t fun unless he was torturing both of us.”
The room became dead silent. I exchanged a look with Jeanie. Tears glistened in her eyes as she stood with a hand covering her mouth, the other arm curled over her stomach. One of the officers behind her hung his head and shuffled his weight from foot to foot. The other caught my gaze then looked away. He didn’t want anything to do with this.
“Then one night…” Sally felt behind her for the chair and lowered her bony body into it. “One night he tied me up.” Her eyes moved rapidly back and forth, looking at nothing. I didn’t think she’d be able to go on. “So he could rape Ben in front of me.” She brought a trembling hand to her mouth, then collapsed over the far arm of the chair, sobbing.
Seconds passed, and the only movement in the room, the only noise, was the woman weeping. Unbidden, my mind flashed back to the freckle-faced boy who played with my grandfather’s toy. I closed my eyes. I was torn. The things they went through. But what about what he did to Zoe…?
Jeanie took a step into the room. I opened my eyes. I could tell she wanted to comfort the woman, but was waiting for permission from me. I fell against my desk and passed a hand over my face. “Go ahead.”
But before Jeanie could reach her, Sally Beckwith raised her head. Tears covered her face, and her hair was wild. “But that only happened once. I knew the only way to be free of him was if he was in the grave. I—”
I stood, waving my hands. “Stop right there. As an officer of the court I advise you not to say another word.”
She sniffled.
Jeanie put a hand on Sally’s shoulder, then turned and gestured to me.
“What?”
“A Kleenex, Tucker?”
“Oh.” I handed her one and she gave it to Mrs. Beckwith, who blew her nose. With both elbows propped on the chair’s armrests she hung her head and sighed. “My husband Darrell, Darrell Beckwith, he says I was wrong not to talk to Ben about everything that happened. But I….” She closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the top of the chair. “I just couldn’t.” Her voice weakened again. “I mean.” She took another swipe at her nose with the tissue. “How do you talk about that?” She raised her head to look at me, then at Jeanie, as if we had an answer for her.
I was betraying Zoe. I was the man who was supposed to defend her until I died, and I was feeling sympathy for the mother of the kid who had tried to rape her.
“Darrell got Ben some help now. Someone to talk to. A psychiatrist.” She gestured randomly. “I guess Ben just doesn’t understand how wrong…or he didn’t. He does now.” She again looked at me. “He’s sorry for what he did.”
I didn’t want to hear it. Anger began to boil again. Perhaps the security guard recognized it, because he spoke up. “Ma’am. I think it’s best if you leave now.”
She looked at me for a second then slowly rose to her feet. She shuffled toward the door but turned around at the last minute. “I am sorry for what Ben did to your daughter, Mr. McCord. She didn’t deserve that. But so many of us get what we don’t deserve.” Without saying anything else, she left with the security people.
I put a hand over my eyes and rubbed my temples.
“Tucker?”
“Hmm?”
“Are you all right?”
I don’t know.
I raised my head and touched her arm. “I’m fine, Jeanie. I’m sorry you had to witness—”
“No, Tucker. Don’t apologize.” She waved an arm toward the door. “That wasn’t your fault.”
“Mmm.” I pushed away from the desk and walked around to the other side. “I didn’t handle it well.”
She exhaled. “There was no good way to handle that…that disaster.”
“Maybe.” I sat in my chair and swiveled it to look out the window. The security guys were helping Mrs. Beckwith into her car. One crouched beside her, where she sat in the driver’s seat, with her feet still out on the pavement. He put a hand on her knee and rose. She nodded and swung her legs into the car. He closed the door gently as she buckled her seat belt. Then she backed out, waved, and drove away.
“Tucker. Is there anything I can get you?”
It took me a moment to find my voice. “No.” I answered automatically. She seemed to realize it and didn’t move. I twisted my head to look her in the eye and tried to give her a smile. “Nah, Jeanie, I’m good.”
“Okay.” She backed out of the door. “But I’ll be—well, you know where I’ll be.” She left, closing the door behind her.
I glanced at the suspended silver balls. They weren’t going to clear my muddled thoughts this time.