CHAPTER FOUR

Jack had been serving as his sixteen-year-old niece Kaitlyn’s temporary guardian for the past three months, since the end of summer. Kaitlyn had gotten into a fight at school that morning and the other student’s mother was demanding to talk with him. Was there any chance he could come to the school? Thanks to the morning’s schedule reshuffle, he had a small window of time, if now would work. It would, so he got his car and drove across town.

Fifteen minutes after leaving Jan Cummings’s office, he was jogging up the high school’s front steps, his mind preoccupied with thoughts of how to best make urgent contact with Damien Falconi. The security guard checked his name and waved him inside.

He was no stranger here, though it had been twenty-seven years since he’d last set foot in this building as a high school senior. He slowed upon entering, gobsmacked by the eerie lack of change—the same fluorescent lights and buffer swirls on the speckled linoleum floor, the sound of lockers slamming and voices echoing, the smell of gymnasium and disinfectant. He turned a familiar corner, and there it was, exactly as he remembered, two doors down on the right: the guidance counselor’s office.

In the reception area, a young secretary smiled, her earrings swaying like tiny wind chimes. Identifying herself as the one who’d called, she thanked him profusely and pointed toward the inner office, where his presence was expected. He hadn’t gotten halfway there, however, when the door flew open and a woman strode out, charging by him without a word or a glance.

The secretary sprang to her feet. “Ms. Greer—is everything all right?” No response, just the retort of heels receding down the hallway.

Out of the inner office came a Black man with graying hair who gave Jack an apologetic look and a sigh. He extended his hand and introduced himself as Jim Brady, the guidance counselor. His face seemed familiar, but Jack couldn’t place him. He explained that the angry woman was the other student’s mother, the one who’d demanded to talk with him.

“Unfortunately, she took offense when I explained the rules of engagement,” Brady said. “I hate to have wasted your time, Doctor. But as long as you’re here, come on in and let me explain what happened this morning.”

“Is Kaitlyn here?” Jack said.

“No, she’s back in class now.”

The office looked much as Jack remembered from over two decades ago. He took the chair nearest the dusty curtainless window overlooking the Seneca River. Brady began describing what had transpired. It seemed that Kaitlyn’s friend, Aishia Almasi, an Iraqi girl who wears the hijab, was getting teased to the point of cruelty that morning. Kaitlyn went up to the ringleader, Conrad Greer—who’s a foot taller than her—and gave him a shove. Unfortunately, Conrad tripped and banged his head on the floor. He was in the ED with a concussion and ten stitches.

As Jack’s eyes widened, Brady held up his hand reassuringly. “His brain scan was normal. They’re just going to watch him overnight.”

At that moment there came a loud rapping on the door, giving Jack déjà vu of the interruption not long ago in Jan Cummings’s conference room. The door flew open, and Ms. Greer marched in, holding her purse like a breastplate. Jack rose. The secretary was standing behind her in the doorway, raising her eyebrows in exasperation. She eased the door shut while the angry mother dropped into a chair. Nonplussed, Brady thanked her for returning and made introductions.

“I know who he is,” Ms. Greer blurted. “What I don’t know is why a doctor would bring someone as vicious as that girl into this school.”

Brady folded his arms across his chest. “As I said, Ms. Greer—we need to talk this through calmly.”

Her face went even more florid. “Don’t you dare patronize me. She could have killed my son.”

“I was just telling Dr. Forester that I spoke to the physician caring for Conrad and—”

Her body stiffened. “You talked to his doctor without my permission?”

“No confidential details were shared. But his situation is reassuring.”

“You call a concussion reassuring?” She swung around and leveled her eyes at Jack, pupils wide. “Your niece has a history of violence. Her background is common knowledge. I’m holding you responsible.”

Jack cleared his throat. “Respectfully, Ms. Greer, I am not aware of any such history. I’m not sure what common knowledge you mean.”

“The fact that her mother got thrown into jail somewhere out in Ohio and that the girl is uncontrollable.”

“I hear your anger, but please let me set the record straight,” Jack said. “Her stepmother is in a court-mandated inpatient rehabilitation program in Dayton, not prison.”

Ms. Greer sniffed. “What’s the difference? The point is that she’s here in New Canterbury because they couldn’t handle her.”

“Again, that’s not the case. Kaitlyn is with us because we’re her closest family, and this was the best option while her stepmother gets treatment, which will be finished in just a couple of weeks.”

“But you’re a widower, I know that much. Who takes care of her when you’re working?”

“The same person who cares for my daughter, Ms. Greer. My wife’s retired aunt lives with us.”

Brady leaned forward. “Her name is Zoë Andersen, Ms. Greer. I met her when Kaitlyn enrolled. Seems a very responsible soul.”

Ms. Greer squinted dismissively. “What about those jailhouse tattoos on her wrists? It means she’s either murdered someone or been raped. You can look it up yourself.”

“My niece has never been arrested or assaulted. I’m certain she’s never been in jail.”

“Ms. Greer.” Brady said. “Those tattoos can also mean that a person’s lost a loved one. Kaitlyn told me that she got one for her real mother and one for her father.”

Jack looked at Brady, feeling a sense of surprise tinged with guilt. That was news to him. He’d never asked Kaitlyn about them, had just made assumptions about rebelliousness.

“I’m not going to argue with the two of you against me,” she said, her nostrils flaring. “I want her expelled and you should call the police.”

“I agree that your son’s injury shouldn’t have happened,” Brady said. “But it was an accident. Kaitlyn didn’t intend to hurt him, and she was quite upset about what ended up happening. Neither she, nor Conrad, meet criteria for being expelled. We have a policy about fighting. For a first event, unless something egregious happened—which was not the case here—the student is assigned community service.” He glanced at Jack. “Kaitlyn is already aware of that. We have a policy for bullying behavior too. And Conrad—”

She shot to her feet. “My son is lying in the hospital and you talk about bullying?”

“Ms. Greer—”

“Community service!” Her voice oozed scorn. “If something happens to him, you won’t know what hit you.”

The door slammed behind her, rattling the frosted glass.

Brady sighed. “Wow. I apologize again, Doctor. I didn’t know it was going to go like this. It’s unfortunate that false rumors about Kaitlyn are circulating, but I guess it’s not surprising in a small community like ours. Conrad’s not a bad kid. I suspect he was partly showing off for Kaitlyn’s benefit. Bad decision.” He leaned back in his chair. “Dr. Forester, you probably don’t recall, but my wife was a patient of yours in the ER about six years ago.”

That’s where he’d seen him before.

“I wouldn’t expect you to remember,” Brady continued. “She had stage-four ovarian cancer and things had started going downhill real fast. We hadn’t accepted the inevitable yet. She was in terrible pain that night. You got her feeling better and facilitated our hookup with hospice. You had a great bedside manner.” He sighed deeply. “We were grateful.”

Images crystallized in Jack’s mind. A lovely woman in her mid-fifties lying on the stretcher, face taut with agony; Jim Brady standing by the stretcher, gripping the rails as if his own life depended on it. “Yes,” he said. “I do remember that. It’s good to see you again.”

Brady glanced down at his hands and then back up at Jack. “I’ve thought of that night often. Your empathy meant a lot. When I knew you were coming over today, someone mentioned that you’d attended this high school, so I looked in the records and sure enough.” Then Brady’s face twitched. He looked away, his eyes growing distant as if embarrassed.

Jack read his thoughts. “If you saw my history, you’ll know I went through a rough patch.”

Brady met his eyes and smiled. “But you sure came through it well, Doctor. You’re an inspiration. You honor your alma mater. Maybe you could come talk to our future health care professionals club sometime.”

“I would like that,” Jack said.

“I understand you’re the dean now. Do you still see patients?”

Jack shifted. “I don’t, no.”

“That’s a loss. Not to pry, but I was surprised when Ms. Greer mentioned you were a widower yourself.”

Jack’s scalp tingled. He looked out at the river and said, “We lost my wife Zellie three years ago.”

Brady nodded and pursed his lips sympathetically. “So, we’re fellow travelers down that sad road. You have my sincere condolences.”

“And mine to you,” Jack said, still looking outside. The river was churning fast and muddy thanks to recent heavy rains. The water must be scouring the bottom, grinding stones to sand and gravel. He suddenly recalled his need to get in touch with Damien Falconi. It couldn’t wait. And he had other duties this afternoon. He had to leave here.

“Is everything okay, Doctor?” said Brady.

Jack glanced up at the wall clock. “Just running short of time.”

“Of course. Forgive me. I’ve been rambling. But listen, do you have another couple of minutes to talk about your niece? I’ve actually been meaning to reach out to you. I’ll get to the point.”

“A couple of minutes is about all I can spare.”

“Okay. Here’s the deal. Kaitlyn’s doing extremely well here academically. I spoke with her old guidance counselor, and that was far from the case in Dayton. She was barely scraping by and there was concern about depression and disengagement. You know all this, I’m sure. It sounds like the situation with her stepmother was, to be blunt, very toxic.”

“It wasn’t ideal,” Jack said. “But her stepmother has been getting extensive treatment and hopefully that will right the ship.”

“Hopefully, yes,” Brady said, frowning. “But I hate to think of a window of opportunity for Kaitlyn closing. She’s thriving now. I’m talking valedictorian potential. Forgive me if I’m overstepping my bounds . . . but have you thought about her staying to finish high school in New Canterbury?”

Jack glanced at the clock again. “That subject hasn’t been discussed, no. As far as I know, she’s looking forward to returning home.”

“I see,” Brady said, clearing his throat. “Something else too. I also coach the varsity baseball team. One day I happened to see Kaitlyn playing catch in gym and was impressed. So, I had her give me some pitches. Your niece has a seriously good throwing arm, one of the best I’ve ever seen—boy or girl. But she has never once participated in any school athletics back in Ohio. She tells me her father used to play professional baseball before he died. Was he your brother?”

“No. He was my wife’s younger brother. He spent a couple of seasons pitching with the triple-A team in Dayton.”

Brady leaned closer. “Here’s the thing. We took the varsity baseball team coed last year, and I have no doubt Kaitlyn would make it this spring. A success like that could make a huge difference for the rest of her life.”

Jack remembered when Kaitlyn first arrived back in August, Zoë eagerly driving out to Ohio to pick her up. Kindhearted Zoë, who’d never had any children of her own. But he’d had no idea how much Kaitlyn now resembled Zellie in facial features and mannerisms, and how that tended to rekindle his grief every time he saw her.

He met Brady’s gaze. “I understand what you’re saying, but the plan is for her to return home when her stepmother is out of treatment. That’s in about two weeks. I don’t see how we can alter that.” Brady was about to say more when Jack looked again at the clock and stood, holding out his hand. “And I really must go, Mr. Brady. Genuinely nice to see you again.”

It was the end of third period. Kaitlyn Andersen and her friend Aishia were waiting near Mr. Brady’s office when Uncle Jack emerged and strode down the hallway away from where they stood.

Aishia nudged her. “Say something. He doesn’t know we’re here.”

Watching him recede, Kaitlyn hesitated. “Maybe this isn’t such a good idea.”

“I thought you wanted to ask him about doing your community service at the hospital. If you don’t call to him, I will.”

“No,” Kaitlyn said, grabbing Aisha’s arm. “He’s busy. Obviously. Don’t. I mean it.”

Aishia fingered the edge of the hijab covering her black hair. “This isn’t like you. I’m supposed to be the shy one.”

“As if,” Kaitlyn said. Compared to Aishia, who had moved to New Canterbury from New Jersey so her father could manage a convenience store, Kaitlyn was the more reserved. Some of the kids might tease her about hiding behind a hajib, but there was nothing subservient about Aishia.

Uncle Jack turned the corner and was gone. Kaitlyn couldn’t hear his footfalls anymore.

“I’ll do it at home. He may not even want to talk. Like I said, he doesn’t like me anyway. We’d better get to class.”

“Why do you keep saying he doesn’t like you?”

They walked. “Because he acts like I’m not even on the same planet. He never talks to me. Never.”

“Maybe he’s stupid. Some doctors are, you know.”

They passed a group of senior boys going in the other direction, friends of Conrad. One of them made a farting sound and the others laughed.

“Speaking of stupid, there sure are a lot of redneck a-holes in this school,” Aishia said, lowering her voice. “I wish I were back in Newark. But then I wouldn’t have met you. It’s so sad you’re leaving. It’s not fair.”

“We’ll stay friends,” Kaitlyn said. “You’re going to come visit me.”

“Sure,” said Aishia.

“I’m serious.”

“How did you come up with that hospital volunteer idea?” Aishia said.

“I saw a poster about it in the cafeteria.”

“If it was me, I’d take detention so I could sit and read and not have to go home to all my brothers. You want to talk about a-holes.”

“I’m sure they love you,” Kaitlyn said.

“They love to remind me I’m not one of them. What’s so great about having a penis, anyway?”