The Gambler

by Molly O'Keefe

  “He ran when he saw me that day at the O’Neill house.”

  “I found him. I mean, I’ve never been worried about where to find him,” I said, each word sounding like a lame excuse. A tired reason. Every single thing I thought had been right, was now, clearly, so damn wrong. “But I was worried about what kind of trouble would have found him first.”

  Nora nodded and sat back in her chair, the soft morning sunlight softening her face, but not her eyes. Her eyes were double-barreled shotguns, pointing right at me.

  “You realize as an officer of the law you are a mandated reporter of child abuse.”

  “I…do. Yes.”

  “Had the abuse been more serious, you could lose your job.”

  “I understood the risks I was taking.”

  Nora snorted and crossed her arms over her chest.

  “You know what galls me?” Nora asked. “What really worries me about this situation? You let a scared sixteen-year-old boy dictate your actions.”

  “I was trying to keep him out of Department of Corrections. We don’t have programs or services in place to help kids,” I said.

  “The Parish does,” Nora said. “I am a part of a program designed to help kids. I understand that he was scared. And I agree—he was a flight risk. But you are the adult, and you didn’t do your job.”

  I nodded, shamed into silence that buzzed painfully in my ears.

  “What happens now?” I finally asked.

  “I’m going to visit Ramon Pastor and let him know that community services has opened a file on Miguel and Louisa. And that should there be any more instances of abuse or attempted crime, we’ll remove the child from his home. We’ll enroll the family in counseling—”

  “Ramon won’t go,” I said.

  “You don’t know that,” Nora said, her thin lips tight. “And frankly, your assumptions have led us to this mess. But if Miguel’s father does not make efforts to keep his children, then we will find foster homes for the kids.”

  “He’ll die without his sister. I’m telling you, Miguel is a good kid, a sweet kid who is trying hard to stay that way, but you take his sister away and pretty soon he’ll end up in DOC because he deserves to.”

  Nora nodded in stern sympathy. “Sadly, there are problems that arise, but with a good community support—”

  “We don’t have community support,” I said, feeling my face get hot with panic. “That’s what I’m trying to say. We have no system in place to help a kid like Miguel.”

  “It seems to me you do,” Nora said, looking down at her file. “Tyler O’Neill. Trust me, systems in other towns all started with a citizen like Mr. O’Neill—someone who has the time, energy and inclination to help. You can grow your own system, Chief Tremblant.”

  With Tyler as the seed? It was the most ridiculous thing I’d ever heard. Giving money to down-and-out musicians and funding the cost for new homes was not the same as an outreach program for at-risk kids.

  Unwanted, the thought of his face sitting at that breakfast counter between Louisa and Miguel seared my brain.

  Sure, I thought bitterly, he could do it. Kids like him. Trust him. But would he do it? For extended periods of time? The answer resounding emphatically through my body was no.

  “Another place to start is in your own department,” Nora said. “Designate one of your employees to be a family officer, to act as a liaison between myself and—”

  “I’ll do that,” I said quickly.

  “That’s good.” Nora slid a card across the desk toward me. “As chief, that sends a powerful message to the community that you’re involved.”

  Something bright bubbled in my chest, a potent mix of hope and satisfaction.

  This was good, I realized. This was how I was going to be police chief my way.

  “Contact Officer Rhodes in Ellicott City. He’s the family officer there and he has an excellent system in place. He was in the same bind you are in a few years ago.”

  I stared down at the card and decided to take the bulls by the horn. “Will there be some kind of action taken against me for not reporting the abuse?”

  “I have to put a letter of reprimand in your file. But I’ll decide what else needs to be done after I talk to Miguel.” She began to pack up her briefcase, every movement efficient and clipped. “He’s not at school today. Neither is his sister.” She arched her light eyebrows. “I am assuming you know where we can find them?”

  I nodded and stood, numb to the anxiety and worry. To the strange embarrassment of having been proven not so clever after all.

  “I’ll drive,” I said.

  TYLER

  * * *

  “Tyler,” Miguel said, his voice conveying a world of skepticism that frankly, I was not appreciating. We were carrying the lumber from my new truck to the soon-to-be-rebuilt-better-than-ever porch. I kept glancing over my shoulder to make sure Louisa was coming with the boxes of nails.

  So cute, that kid.

  “Where’s your enthusiasm?” I asked, sliding my two-by-twelves onto the grass.

  Miguel just stared back at me blankly.

  “Come on, it’ll work,” I said, pulling the plans I’d sketched up last night from my back pocket. I unfolded the piece of paper, tried to smooth out the worst of the wrinkles and, after stealing some masking tape stuck to one of the bundles of boards, taped them to the front of the red door. “Won’t it, Louisa?”

  “Yep,” she said, putting the boxes of nails next to the boards.

  “But have you ever built anything like this?” Miguel asked.

  “No,” I said.

  “You ever designed—”

  “This is my first,” I said.

  “This ain’t ever going to work,” Miguel said.

  “Your lack of faith is truly insulting,” I said.

  “My lack of faith?” Miguel scoffed. “Dude, you been sitting in a chair refusing to help me tear down a porch because you said you got no clue how to do it. Now, you draw up some crap on a—” Miguel flicked the paper on the door, glancing at the back of it “—flyer for a strip club? And you think I’m going to be able to build it? A porch? By myself?”

  “First of all,” I said. “Sully’s is not a strip club. It’s a gentleman’s club and someday you will understand the difference.” I stepped over to the piles of lumber and grabbed the two tool belts. I pretended to hand one to Miguel, but at the last minute I handed it to Louisa, who howled with laughter.

  I needed to keep this girl around all the time; she was great for my ego.

  “And second, I don’t expect you to build it. I expect us to build it,” I said.

  “Me, too?” Louisa asked.

  “Of course. Who else will be using all the power tools?”

  “She’s not touching any power tools!” Miguel cried, his voice climbing ten octaves.

  “It’s a joke, kid.” I smiled at the boy’s steamed expression. “You’ve got to lighten up. Derek helped me with the plans and told me what kind of lumber and tools we needed. He measured and cut most of the wood.”

  “Derek gonna come over here and help us build it?”

  “No. Come on, man. You and I can do this.”

  Miguel squinted at me, sizing me up. The boy’s face was getting better; he still looked like he’d been roughed up, but the burn was less vivid and the bruising was turning yellow.

  “First you buy that crappy truck—”

  “Don’t call Lila crappy,” I said. “She’s sensitive about her age.”

  “Now you’re building porches?” Miguel shook his head. “I always knew you were strange, but this is a whole new level of weird. You’re changing and it ain’t pretty.”

  Changing, I thought. I can only hope.

  “Hey, Miguel?” Louisa said, her voice suddenly smaller than I had heard it all day. “Who is that with Juliette?” she asked, sidling up next to me, reaching for Miguel’s hand.

  Miguel and I turned to see Juliette crossing the lawn with Nora Sullivan.


  Shit.

  “Miguel!” Juliette cried. “We just want to talk.”

  “Louisa, come on,” Miguel whispered, backpedaling past the porch. “Run.”

  12

  “Whoa!” I said, and I scooped up Louisa, stopping Miguel in his tracks.

  “Let her go,” Miguel breathed and I held Louisa closer. “Come on, man. You know that woman is going to take us away.”

  Louisa pressed her face into my shirt, sounds like a kicked dog coming out of her throat.

  “You’re scaring her,” Miguel snapped.

  “No, Miguel, you are. Listen to me.” I tried to loosen Louisa’s firm grip on my windpipe. “You can run, but…but sometimes it’s smarter to see what you’re running from.”

  The words were barely out my mouth before Juliette was there and I realized how terribly ironic it was that I should say that. I’d run away from the best thing that had ever happened to me. I’d known that, and still I ran.

  “Miguel,” Juliette said. “Ms. Sullivan just wants to talk to you. She’s not taking anyone anywhere.”

  She reached for Miguel but he stepped away and Nora Sullivan took over like an arctic wind. “We need to talk, Miguel,” she said, and Miguel froze. Even Louisa stopped whimpering. “As the person taking care of Louisa, you need to be making some smart decisions, and running away with her, with no money and no means to get anywhere, isn’t a smart decision.”

  Miguel blinked and I had to hand it to Nora. Treating the boy like an adult held him spellbound.

  “Louisa?” Nora asked with a smile that softened her face. “Could you come and talk to your brother and I for a moment?”

  Louisa loosened her death grip on my throat and took the few steps between me and her brother.

  “If you’d give us a moment?” Nora said, dismissing me and Juliette, and we both nodded, easing around to the other side of the porch.

  Once out of sight, Juliette turned away from me, braced her hands on her hips and took deep breaths, staring up at the sky, calming some panic inside her.

  “Juliette—”

  I’d sworn after that botched apology that I was going to let go of Juliette. In my mind. My heart. I was going to just let this end because I couldn’t stand it anymore. Being hated by her tore the skin from my bones. And I couldn’t change what I did.

  But I couldn’t watch her in pain and not feel it. Not try and make it better.

  Fuck. I just want to hold her.

  Finally, she turned with a slicing smile and over-bright eyes that didn’t fool me for a minute.

  “Oh, Jules—” I reached for her but she lifted her hand, her eyes blazing, and I stopped, the motion unfulfilled.

  “Everything okay?” I asked.

  “I have no clue,” she said, jerking her shoulders. “No idea. I won’t lose my job, but that hardly matters if those two get split up.”

  “You’ve done everything you can,” I said.

  “Really? Because right now, it seems all I’ve done is broken the law, several times. Kept Miguel and his sister in a dangerous home environment, trusted them to your keeping…”

  I backed up. This again. I shouldn’t have baited her the other day. That dirty little secret thing had just made things worse and I didn’t want that. We were on the same team when it came to those kids and I just kept antagonizing Juliette.

  Not that I didn’t deserve it, but still. I was trying to be a better man.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “You don’t deserve that. You’ve been…great. Better than—”

  “You could expect?” I smiled to make it a joke but she wasn’t laughing.

  “Better than anyone else would have been. And more important, you stepped in, when no one else would.”

  “I was just trying to get into your pants,” I said with a shrug. “Hasn’t worked.”

  Her laugh sounded like it was escaping a choke hold and then, suddenly, it was that laugh of hers I remembered. Like standing under a cool shower on a hot day.

  Danger, I thought, but I couldn’t back away if I had to. Juliette laughing. She was no longer the cold stranger; she was the girl I loved—the girl who had loved me. Her laughter was a revelation and it had been so long.

  “You stepped in, when that kid had no one,” I said, feeling a sudden swell of warmth for this woman. For her brave face and all her heart.

  I love you, I thought. I always have. I always will.

  “Well, I don’t think I did him any favors.”

  “How can you say that?”

  “Because Nora Sullivan tore me a new one in my office ten minutes ago,” she said, and then shook her head. “Let’s…let’s talk about something else. How was your morning?”

  “Good. Louisa ate her weight in sausage, and Miguel had two shakes.”

  “I’ll reimburse you.”

  “Stop, Juliette. I’m with you. I’m on your side. You don’t owe me anything.”

  She looked at me a long time, her hazel eyes unguarded by glasses and for a second I felt naked—as if she could see through my clothes and skin to the heart that beat for her.

  “Thank you,” she said, sincere and warm, and I was touched by her genuine gratitude. “I should have said that before.”

  “You did.”

  “I didn’t mean it.”

  Now I was laughing, and the good times between us were close enough to taste.

  “Chief Tremblant,” Nora Sullivan said, coming around the side of the porch with her hands on the shoulders of the two kids. The two smiling kids.

  Juliette gasped and we shared a startled look.

  “I guess everything is okay?” Juliette asked.

  Miguel just shrugged but Nora nodded. “We’ve set up some counseling sessions for the entire family. I am going to go find Mr. Pastor to set up a schedule and let him know what Miguel and Louisa have decided.”

  “What…what have you decided?” Juliette asked.

  “We want to stay in our home,” Miguel said. “But only if Dad stops drinking.”

  “And if he doesn’t?” Juliette asked.

  Miguel and Louisa shared a long look. “Ms. Sullivan says we won’t be split up if we go into foster care, she knows someone who can take us together.”

  “Okay,” Juliette said after a moment. She seemed slightly unglued and I put my hand on her shoulder to steady her. The heat of her skin through her linen shirt melted me and I wanted to wrap myself around her and not let go.

  So, I forced myself to, taking my hand back and shoving it deep in my pocket.

  I was happy for her, but this was her happiness. I needed to stay away from it.

  “Ms. Sullivan,” Juliette said, stepping away from me. “I’ll take you back to the station.”

  “And I’ll put you two back to work,” I said to the kids.

  Juliette and Nora Sullivan left, and as I led the kids away I couldn’t help hugging Louisa to my side.

  “I’m proud of you,” I said to Miguel.

  “I need to take care of my family,” Miguel said, his eyes on his sister as she raced on ahead, looking for her tool belt.

  JULIETTE

  * * *

  “Ms. Sullivan,” I said, as we stood in the parking lot of the station, surrounded by cars and bird poop. “I can’t thank you enough. You made a miracle happen—”

  “No,” Nora said, sliding her briefcase onto the hood of her car. She turned to face me, unbuttoning her sleeves and rolling them up her arms in the midday sun. “He was scared of what he didn’t know. I just told him the truth and let him make up his mind. I didn’t let him dictate my actions.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I was—”

  “Scared. Like the kid. I understand. Trust me, I do.” Oddly enough, I had the sense that Nora did understand. “It is not my job to hurt kids or to break up families. I have to make every reasonable effort to prevent removal of children from their homes. It’s my job to keep kids safe, and to that end, I appreciate what you’ve done. As wholly misguided and
illegal as it was.”

  “You’re not what I expected,” I said.

  “I get that a lot. Look, call my office tomorrow and we’ll set up some meetings.” Nora tilted her head slightly, regarding me carefully. “You and Miguel appear to be close.”

  I nodded, leaning against her car, not feeling as if I was under scrutiny anymore. Feeling more as though I had found a powerful ally. “He and his sister are special kids. They just need someone to care.” I let that sink in for a moment.

  “You should consider being a foster parent,” she suggested.

  “Me?” I asked, the idea shocking the hell out of me, so much so that I said the most asinine thing that sprang into my head. “I’m not married—”

  “You don’t need to be,” Nora said. “You need to meet the qualifications and fill out the application. I would be willing to write you a letter of recommendation.”

  I gaped. “You would? But the letter in my file—”

  “Will still be there, with some qualifications.” She lifted a finger. “We’re a small parish and I’ve got seventeen kids in eight foster homes. We’re strapped. And a woman like you is the kind of person we need. Someone who cares enough to put the kids first. With some training and some help, you’ll be perfect. And considering that Miguel and Louisa have a fairly high likelihood of being put into foster care, it would be good to have them placed with someone they know and trust.”

  “But you said you knew of someone who would take them both.”

  Nora’s smile was sly and realization dawned.

  “That’s sneaky. What if I didn’t want to be a foster parent?”

  “I have a hunch about you, Chief Tremblant,” she said, and opened up her briefcase while I turned over the idea in my head.

  It was nothing I had ever considered. Ever. But I would know that Miguel and Louisa were safe, that they had a future they deserved and that I would be a part of it.

  Thinking of watching them grow up, being privy to their lives, their adulthood, thrilled me, filled me with a big fat warm glow.