The clatter of a wrench striking concrete disrupted the silent prelude of the past thirty minutes.
“You trying to give me a heart attack?” TJ muttered, rubbing his chest. “Geez. You mess up everything, man.”
Micah mined the wrench from the garage floor and tossed it into TJ’s waiting hands. “Mama Rosie didn’t tell me you were such a drama queen.”
The kid actually rolled his eyes. Micah bit back a smirk. “Mama Rosie’s the drama queen.” His dark eyes darted to the door. “But don’t tell her I said so, or she’ll take a paddle to my rear end.”
“And mature. She forgot to mention how mature you are.” Micah folded his arms over his chest and studied the fifteen-year-old currently leaning over the engine of the car Micah had never asked for in the city he’d wanted to avoid. At least a silver lining existed in the form of a fiery brunette who had him intrigued.
TJ muttered a few choice words under the hood.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that.” Micah took a quick swig of water and eyed the teen. Lanky yet muscled, TJ hadn’t quite come into his height yet stood right at about Micah’s shoulder. His dark skin dripped with sweat in the stuffy garage, and his flat-billed cap sat cocked on his head. Micah was surprised it hadn’t tumbled onto the engine yet. His fingers made quick work of the car parts. He handled each piece with care as he cleaned, maneuvered, tightened, and fixed.
“Man, what’re you staring at?”
Micah settled the water bottle on the hood of the truck and grabbed the dirty rag to clean more black gunk from between his fingers. “I’m wondering why a skilled kid like you is starting fights on the court with a kid twice your size.”
TJ’s mouth pinched at the corners. Back to silence again. This time Micah refused to let it dominate. Dusk cast its mask despite the open garage door, casting shadows over their rusty project. A car sped down the overgrown alleyway as the stare off continued. Finally . . .
“What do you care? Just because you’re Casey’s friend doesn’t mean I have to like you. How’d an ugly fool like you meet her anyhow?”
“We’ll come back to that.” Micah lounged against his inherited hunk of steel. “Let’s start back at the ‘why I care’ part. I don’t, or I could if you would let me. In my experience, you don’t start a fight without a reason.” He lowered his voice thinking of the fist fight he’d had with Nick right after deployment.
TJ grabbed the rag and started scrubbing his hands, his knuckles clenched in the fabric. “And you’re an expert on fights?”
Micah offered the glimmer of a smile. “I’ve been in my share of battles.”
“No offense, but you don’t look like a guy who has seen many street fights.”
“My street fighting is relegated to the streets of Baghdad and a few other places I can’t name.”
TJ slowed his frenzied cleaning, his eyes brightening in the dusty light. “Army?”
“Please.”
TJ smirked. “Marines?”
“Do I look like a jarhead to you?”
“Navy?”
“Right branch. Wrong title.”
TJ cocked his head, his gaze raking Micah. Micah could practically see the wheels turning. Then came the click. A slow grin spread across TJ’s face. “No way. You were a Navy SEAL? Get out of here. I’ve heard it’s crazy hard to pass all those tests.” He tossed the rag on top of the engine. “You might be okay, man. You still in, or did you quit?”
The question rolled from an innocent kid but felt anything but. Micah clenched the fist buried in the crook of his arm and shifted his position on the car. “I’m out right now. And I’m here. And I’m hanging with you.”
The kid shoved his hands in faded jeans. “Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why be here? Why come to the court? Why break up my one chance to plant my fist in that idiot’s face? Why ask me to fix this junk?” He kicked the car, his voice rising in the descending shadows. “Why?”
Micah stood and faced TJ. “Why’d you want to fight that Coleman kid?”
“Because he insulted my brother,” TJ spat.
“That’s no reason to fight,” Micah said, keeping his voice level, even as he shoved down his own guilt. There was a time when he would have done the same.
“It’s always a reason to fight. Family is always a reason to fight.”
That Micah understood. He would go to hell and back for his two brothers and baby sister. And he wouldn’t think twice about it. But he’d learned there were other ways to protect than using his fist or a gun. He took a step closer. “Family is always a reason to fight, to defend.” He swallowed back regret, remembering the brothers he’d abandoned, the team he no longer could call family. He shoved it all aside. “Don’t waste breath on guys who don’t know what they are talking about and are trying to get you in trouble. Don’t play that game. That’s not honorable.”
“And you own the monopoly on what honor looks like?”
Micah stepped back as if he’d been punched. The guilt he’d just shoved away pounded through his gut. TJ was right. He’d messed up. His brothers had been killed on his watch. And then he’d left. What did he know of honor?
This time TJ took a step forward, invading Micah’s space. “Around here, we fight for our own. That’s honor. My brother . . .” TJ swallowed back emotion. “My brother didn’t deserve what he got. The people around here . . . they don’t deserve what they get. But Coleman, Coleman deserves what he gets. My brother isn’t here because of him and his crew.”
Hurting kid. TJ wasn’t just an angry kid trying to prove himself, needing the admonishment of impending manhood. No, he was a hurting kid. A kid who needed to know he belonged, that someone would fight for him, that someone would be there.
“TJ.”
But TJ was already backing out into the alley. He swiped his nose and nodded at the truck. “Give her a turn. Should work for you. If it don’t, tell Mama Rosie to call me. I’ll come back and fix it again.” He turned and ran.
Micah let him go. Inside, he ached. Losing a brother to a war he didn’t know how to fight? He knew the pain. Not knowing where to funnel that pain? He knew that, too. But in his case, unfortunately, Micah knew exactly who to blame.
He watched TJ’s retreating back, wondering if he should leave well enough alone. Why try to help? Why did he keep getting involved?
“What am I doing here?” He kicked out at the bumper, instantly regretting the pain shooting through his toe.
“Well what did that piece of junk do to you?”
Micah chuckled and turned to find Shawn lounging in the door. “Well for starters, it dropped in my lap with a bunch of parts and pieces I can’t name and can’t fix. So I had to call a fifteen-year-old. Shoulda paid more attention to my dad and brother when I was in high school.” Micah slammed the hood and followed Shawn out of the garage, pushing the button to close the door to the neighborhood in his wake.
The scent of cookies lured him into the warm kitchen. “Mama Rosie strikes again.” A plate of warm chocolate chip cookies, perfectly shaped and perfectly stacked, sat in the perfect center of the table shoved in the breakfast nook.
Shawn popped a cookie in his mouth and groaned. “That woman is going to make me fat. These are still warm. Try one.” He nodded at the platter as he marched to the refrigerator and poured two glasses of milk.
“You don’t have to tell me twice.” Micah sank into a chair and bit into his cookie. “Good grief, what does that woman put in these? They’re incredible.”
Shawn handed him a glass filled with milk. “She won’t tell me. Says it’s some secret ingredient that she will only divulge in her will.”
“Well maybe I can talk her into adding me to that will, too.”
“Stick around. She probably has everyone in the neighborhood listed in there.”
Stick around. The words rolled around in Micah’s head. He felt stuck. Stuck in his head. Stuck in the past. Stuck avoiding the last house call he needed to make. Stuck in guilt and shame and a relentless string of goodbyes. Stuck. Did he want to be stuck here, too?
“I told you before, but I’m going to mention it again. I could really use your help finishing out this football season. Practice this week will be brutal since we are one coach short. You would be helping the guys stay conditioned, stay hungry for these last few games.”
Micah stopped chewing and stared at Shawn. His University of Texas Longhorns cap sat backwards on his head. A long-sleeve t-shirt and gym shorts told him Shawn had probably just come from a game of pick-up basketball, something Micah learned Shawn loved in his off time.
“I don’t know, man. I’m trying to figure out a lot right now. I’m not sure what to do.”
Shawn swiped another cookie from the plate. His athletic frame a contrast to the yellow and pink frilly table cloth between them. “Well, you are chasing Casey. Getting to know the kids around here. Fixing a car. And you haven’t booked a ticket out of town or made plans to take care of that mysterious business that you came here for. It looks to me like you aren’t quite ready to leave. And I could really use your help.”
Casey had challenged him. TJ had implied Micah couldn’t ever care. Shawn was pushing him. And Micah felt a stirring of something he hadn’t felt in a while, the steadying sensation of purpose—a reason to get up in the morning.
He needed something, and a job was on his list. Maybe a temporary one would give him more time to figure out his next move . . . and delay this last goodbye to a baby who would never meet her dad and a wife who was now a single mom. Maybe . . .
His phone buzzed in his pocket.
I miss you. When are you coming home?
Kaylan.
He missed his baby sister. But California wasn’t home. Not anymore. He didn’t know if it ever would be again. He didn’t have a home. No roots. Only a right-now.
One more bite of cookie. One more yes to something stable . . . at least for right now. “I’m in. When do I start?”
Shawn grinned and slapped him on the back. “Tomorrow. Get ready for a rough initiation.”
Micah grinned back. “Please. How hard could it be?”
A gentle tap on her office door had Casey abandoning her emails to hug Al, the owner of Ellie’s Place, and a big reason she’d become an adult who fought for others.
“Morning, Sunshine. You’re not usually here so early on a Monday.” He sank into the couch near her desk and hung one leg over the other, completely at ease.
Casey plopped in the chair across from him and took his offered cup of coffee. She’d left her house without brain fuel. Bad call. But thoughts of Emery, the need to write a few recommendation letters for scholarships, and two disappointing resumes on her desk had her out of bed and rushing to Ellie’s earlier than normal. The sun sat low in the morning sky behind the basketball hoop just outside her window. She hated early mornings, but once she got moving, nothing could stop her. “I have to pick up Emery today.”
Al responded with a slow nod, his typical fedora shifted slightly on his bald head, shadowing his eyes. “I see. When did your mom call?”
Casey released a breath. No need to explain her complicated history with Mona Rodriguez to Al. He and Ellie had been her scholarship donors in college. Because of their generosity and a few grants, most of her schooling at Southern Methodist University had been covered. But they’d given her more than money. They’d given her hope. They’d instilled in her the ability to dream despite her past.
“She’s been texting. But yesterday she called. It sounds like Emery made some bad decisions at a party and then with an older guy from school.”
“I see.” Al nodded again and took a sip of his own coffee.
Casey knew he understood. Watching him ponder, she envied his steadiness. Nothing ever rattled him. No matter his endeavor, he radiated peace and positivity. Even when Ellie passed away from her battle with cancer, Al hadn’t lost his smile. It just dimmed for a while. He was one of the few Christians who knew her past and hadn’t looked at her differently because of it.
“And what did your mom ask you to do?”
Casey took a sip of her coffee, craving the shot of warmth in the crisp November morning. “She wants me to pick her up. She wants Emery to stay with me.”
He cocked his head, and the hat Casey had come to identify with her adopted grandfather slid a bit, revealing bright, thoughtful eyes. “And what do you want, Casey girl?”
Casey wrapped both hands around her coffee, her eyes fixed on the glowing sun. “Right now?”
He shrugged. “That’s a good place to start.”
“I want this sports league to launch. I want to hire a full-time coach and coordinator for these teams.”
“And after that? What about for you?”
Casey bit her lip, mulling over what she wanted. “I want my sister to live with me permanently.” She tasted the responsibility as she said the words. “I want her to know this.” She gestured around Ellie’s Place. “I want her to know something different than what I experienced.”
“That’s no easy task.”
Casey shook her head. “But if I don’t do it, who will? Who will love my sister more than me? I won’t let her ruin her life.”
Al only nodded again before leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. “Remember the first night you came over for dinner?”
Casey did. It had been a Thursday in her first month of freshman year. She didn’t have a major or a life goal. And she didn’t know how to behave with rich people who lived in the wealthiest neighborhood in Dallas and could afford to pay a large chunk of her tuition. A black woman had answered the door, dressed in a simple but sweet flower-print dress. Gray streaked her hair and her eyes sparkled as she introduced herself as Ellie Jackson. And the man her physical opposite in every way— white, tall, bald—approached behind her and introduced himself as her husband, Al. Dressed in jeans, a nice button down, and his fedora, Casey immediately felt more relaxed.
“You were so nervous. So guarded. Still are a bit.” He gave her a knowing look but didn’t push, never pushed. “But I saw a light ignite in your eyes that night.”
She’d barely talked through dinner as Ellie and Al shared about his booming business, their desire to help kids from rough home situations, their dreams for a teen center, their struggles to have children of their own, and their hope for her. They saw her spirit in her essays and applications for scholarships and for the school. They were ready to coax it to life.
Ellie and Al wanted dinner. Every other Thursday. If she got an award, they wanted to be there. If she made the Dean’s List, they wanted to be notified. When she picked her major, they wanted to be part of it. They didn’t care about their financial investment. They cared about her. Casey had never experienced that kind of unconditional love and support from adults before. And she hadn’t known what to do with it at first. But Ellie and Al were persistent.
“We wanted the moon and stars for you. But we couldn’t push you. You had to find your dreams on your own. You had to fight for it. We just wanted to be in your corner.” He chuckled and shook his head. “You were a stubborn one. Still are. And still struggling to choose your own dreams, Casey girl. You dream so well for everyone else. You fight so hard to prove something. But what do you want? I think you still haven’t quite figured it out.”
Casey snorted and shook her head.
He smirked. “Or maybe you have and you just aren’t willing to admit it to yourself yet.”
She rolled her eyes.
“No use arguing with me. Even in that lovely head of yours. I can practically hear it.”
“I wouldn’t argue with you, Al.” His brows raised beneath his hat and a small smile plumped his cheeks. “Okay, okay. I don’t argue with you much.”
Al chuckled again and took another swig of coffee.
“The point is, Casey girl, that sister of yours may be in the same place. She’s walking out of a rough situation with your mom with a bunch of baggage and a lot of bad examples to point to. Just like you were. She’s going to move in, and it’s going to be hard. You’ll fight with her, have to discipline and set boundaries, but ultimately you will have to teach her how to dream a bit.”
“Just like you and Ellie did for me.” Casey smiled at the man who had become her surrogate grandfather.
“You bet. And it wasn’t easy. She will have to get there on her own, Casey. You won’t be able to make her. Can you live with that?”
“I can try.”
Al sank back into the couch again and regarded her. “She’s going to have a great example to follow. And you will have Teagan, Shawn, Mama Rosie, and all of Ellie’s Place at your back. And maybe this Micah fellow I’ve heard a bit about?”
Casey fought a blush. “He’s just passing through, Al.”
“If you say so.” But Casey didn’t like the spark that lit his eyes. “Do you think he could solve our coach dilemma?”
He chuckled at her glare. “Okay, maybe not the time to talk about that right now.”
Al set his cup on the table between them and leaned forward again, faded blue eyes fixed on her. Under his stare, Casey fought against the urge to build her walls higher. Ellie and Al had made it farther than anyone besides Teagan and Shawn, but still trusting others didn’t come easy, especially with her pain.
“Are you really willing to do anything, Casey?”
Casey swallowed the lump in her throat and nodded.
“Then I think it may be time to consider trusting God again.” His voice barely carried in the silent building, but it magnified in Casey’s head. First Micah and now Al, a man who had never pushed her in the faith department, even though Casey knew it was an active part of his life.
“Al,” she groaned.
But this time he refused to back down, using the firm tone he normally used on the teenagers. “Casey, do you trust me?”
She bit into her cheek, tasting blood, and nodded once.
“All I’m asking is consider it. You will not be able to care for and love your sister without leaning into the Lord’s strength. Lord knows Ellie and I needed it with you.” The gentle smile was back in place. “You white knuckle everything, Casey girl. You have so much passion and grit and determination, but your independence, it isolates you. The toll it takes to fight in your own strength, it’s weighty. And Jesus says His burdens are light, and His ways are peace.”
Peace. Peace from the constant drive she felt to do more, do better, do it alone, even when she knew people loved her. She nodded once again. Where would she even begin trusting God again after she felt his abandonment years earlier? But then again, Al had never steered her wrong.
“I’ll think about it.”
“That’s all I ask.” He stood, stretching his thin, long legs. “I have a lawyer friend who could help you with any questions you may have about next steps, if that’s something you are interested in. It may be good to seek legal custody if your mom is really serious about letting Emery live with you.”
“Yes, please.” She cast a quick glance at her watch and popped off the couch. “I’m going to be late if I don’t leave now.”
Al pulled her in for a hug and walked with her to the door, arm around her shoulder. “Remember what I said, Casey girl. The best way to love Emery, and even forgive your mom, is to receive the Lord’s love for you in return and operate in his strength. Otherwise, this is doomed to fail.”
Casey nodded as he placed a quick peck on her forehead. His words chased her to the car and haunted her all the way to Waco.
They’d sat in silence for thirteen minutes. Nothing. Not even a peep from Emery. Their mother had said little. Not a hello or a hug or “I’ll see you in a few weeks.” Just a “fix her” before speeding out of the Waco McDonalds’ parking lot. Emery crawled into the front seat, slumped against the window, and hadn’t murmured a word.
Casey checked the clock again and then chanced another glance at her fourteen-year-old sister sitting in the passenger seat. Her dark, almost-black hair hung straight as a board around her head, offset only by a single braid dyed hot pink and twisting from the left side of her head. Her dark eyes popped under smoky makeup and what Casey suspected had been a lot of crying and yelling on the way up from Austin.
A black, grungy One Direction t-shirt hung off one shoulder, the sleeve bearing scars of jagged scissor strokes. Bracelets climbed each wrist and too much skin peeked through ripped jeans. She was gorgeous, fiery, and a hot mess. Just like Casey had been a lifetime ago.
“You can stop staring at me now.”
Casey hid a small smile and shifted her eyes back to the road. “You want to talk about why your mascara is all over your face?”
Emery’s fingers swiped furiously at imaginary black tracts before Casey grabbed her hands and stilled them in her lap. “I’m kidding, Em.”
Casey ignored the answering glare. She dealt with teenage attitude all day. This was a picnic to what she normally experienced.
“Seriously, Em. Want to talk about it?”
“Nope,” she said, popping her p with extra sass.
“Alrighty then.” Casey kept her gaze on the road when she felt her sister’s dark eyes level on her.
“Seriously? Just that easy?”
“Oh, I didn’t say we wouldn’t talk about it later. We just don’t have to right now.”
Emery slumped down further in her seat as Casey wound her way through slower traffic on the two-lane highway. Browning grass and bare trees lined parts of the highway, a testament to encroaching winter, however mild it might be in Texas.
The silence stretched again, until Casey had enough. She punched the button for the radio, filling the car with the sounds of guitar strings, southern comfort, and the feeling of wide-open spaces and simplicity. Country music did that for Casey, made her think of roots and stability and even the possibility of love. She liked when they sang about it, even if she would never experience it for herself.
“Thanks, by the way,” Emery mumbled almost too low for Casey to hear.
She turned down the music. “For what, Em?”
“For letting me come stay with you.”
She tightened her grip on the wheel. “Can I ask you a question?” Casey only caught a nod from the corner of her eye. “How bad is it at home?”
Her sister, her baby sister, rotated to lean against the door; this time, black streaks marked her sweet face. Casey felt her knuckles crack against the leather as it groaned beneath her grip. “He’s mean, Case. And Mom . . . you know how she is. She just makes excuses for him and blames me. One day she’s handing me a beer, and the next she’s yelling at me for drinking. It’s confusing. And frustrating. I just want to live my life. In Dallas . . . with you.”
“You aren’t going back any time soon. We’ll work out the rest later.” She reached for her sister’s hand, her heart squeezing when Emery gripped hard. Donning her most positive, straight-forward, adult-with-teenager voice, she went on, “Here’s what we are going to do. The counselor at the middle school near my house is a friend. She transferred all your files this morning so that you can start tomorrow. We’ll finish out this semester and then figure out what to do going forward.” One battle at a time. One conversation at a time. She planned to keep Emery, but she wanted to see how Emery handled her new set of rules.
“As long as I can get away from Mom, I’m good with whatever,” she grumbled. “And as long as I get to keep my phone.”
“Deal.”
“And try out for cheerleading.” She sat up and leaned toward Casey. “If I make the team, can I stay with you next year, too? Please?”
“Cheerleading?” That was all Casey could get out. She’d despised the cheerleaders in high school.
“Not all of us walk around serious and depressed all the time, Casey.”
Her mouth actually dropped open. “I am not depressed just because I don’t wear a tiny skirt and yell ‘go, fight, roar.’”
“Well I don’t do those things either.”
“Besides, who are you calling depressed, Miss Goth?”
“Stereotyping much? Is that how you counsel all those poor teenagers? Geez, maybe you do need me around to mellow you out.”
Casey grinned. “I’ve missed you, Em.” The bantering, the picking, the annoying kid sister. Mostly, watching her grow up. But Casey hadn’t been able to handle their mom or the slew of boyfriends and stepdads either. She’d bolted right after high school graduation, and she’d left Emery alone. No more. At least one of those bad relationships had produced something good. Emery.
“I’ve kinda sorta missed you, too.”
“What was that? Couldn’t hear you.” Casey poked Emery in the rib cage. Giggling filled the car. “No poke backs. Driving here.”
“Just wait till you get out of the car, Case.”
“Game on, little sis.”
For the first time in her life, Casey’s mom had given Casey something good: a reason and actual case to fight for Emery. And Casey would fight with everything in her to keep her sister in Dallas—to convince their mom that Emery was better off with Casey. Emery deserved to grow up with someone who loved her. And Casey loved Emery with every fiber of her being. The way no one in her home had ever fully loved her. Emery’s life would be different. No more abuse and neglect. Not on Casey’s watch.