Cornelia smiled. “You might not have to be once I introduce you to someone who I think would be perfect for you.”
“What are you talking about?” Gilly grinned. “I’m not even divorced yet.”
“Technically. You’ve been alone for years.”
Gilly shrugged. “True, but still. Who would want a middle-aged woman with a degenerate ex-husband and a teenage girl?”
“Yes, Stan is a degenerate, but you’re a beautiful, smart, and wonderful person with a lovely daughter. A catch in my book, and I know the perfect man for you.”
Gilly rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Yeah. Okay.”
“I do!”
“Uh huh.”
“Do you trust me?”
“You know I do, but…”
“Then let me do my thing.”
***
Cornelia reflected on the friendship the two women had and missed Gilly all over again. Gilly had been a beautiful person. Trustworthy. Easy to talk to and smart. She’d been passionate about her pupils’ lives but, most of all, a fantastic mother to Dakota. The whole package in human form and, precisely what drew Cornelia to believe, a more than perfect match for Irwin. And although technically still married at the time, that did little to dissuade Cornelia from dropping hints to Gilly about her neighbor-buddy on the sly while executing a steady stream of stealth matchmaking techniques.
Irwin cleared his throat, jarring Cornelia’s attention back onto him. “Irwin to Cornelia, do you register?”
“Sorry,” she said. “And?” she asked, where she’d left off.
“And what?” Irwin pretended not to know what she meant.
Cornelia frowned. She loved the man with all her heart, but honestly, she could choke him half the time.
“Fine,” he grumbled. “I told Gilly all I knew. I’ll fill her in once I hear more from the doctor, but from what I’ve been told, nothing can move forward until Stan signs off on it. Legally, he still gets to call all the shots about what’s ultimately done with the child he neglected and abandoned. That’s if they can find him.”
“And what if they don’t?”
Irwin rubbed his temples. “That I don’t know,” to which he added sadly, “but what I do know is that Dakota’s body is giving out. She’s dying, Cornelia. Can’t even breathe on her own anymore.” Irwin closed his eyes. “At least the doctor had been kind enough to fill me in, but at the end of the day, and as selfish as this sounds, I’m not ready to lose her too.”
The kettle whistled, jarring the pair. Cornelia stood and placed a hand on Irwin’s shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. No more words were necessary. Old friends didn’t always need to elaborate when it came to circumstances like these. Their pain, collective loss, and old haunts often spoke volumes.
She poured hot water into each mug and placed them on the table. She’d wait Irwin out, having learned a long time ago that when faced with tribulations as enormous as these, he often needed the extra time to process before discussing. After Gilly died, it had taken Irwin months before opening up, and even then, he never was quite the same.
“Oh,” said Irwin, distracted. “Thanks.” He slid his cup close to sweeten his tea.
Cornelia sank back into her chair. She glanced over at Bones, currently stretched out on Irwin’s sofa, licking his paws and grooming his shiny coat. Irwin liked to joke that he had adopted the two of them, while Cornelia knew for a fact it was more like the other way around. “Why were you so late tonight?” she asked. “Mr. Bones had a conniption waiting for you to show up.”
Irwin placed two cookies on the edge of his plate. Vanilla wafers filled with crème, his guilty pleasure. “Where do I begin?”
“Preferably at the beginning, if you can swing it.”
“The beginning it is.” Irwin propped his elbow on the table, resting his chin on his palm. “I’m faced with a dilemma, if I choose to accept the assignment.”
Cornelia sipped her tea. “You have piqued my interest. Elaborate.”
Irwin tasted his tea, then placed his cup down on the saucer. “There’s a young girl, I’d say about fifteen years old, give or take. I can never figure ages out. Anyway, she comes to the library after school lets out, every single day, and stays until closing. Until tonight, I wasn’t entirely sure why.”
“Why what?” asked Cornelia. “That she comes to the library?”
“Every single day?”
Cornelia seemed ready to say something, but Irwin interjected first.
“Don’t misunderstand me, I’ve seen my fair share of loners and manic super students working at the library, but this one never gave me that impression.”
Cornelia sighed. “What’s the big deal? Maybe the kid likes to read.”
“It’s not that.”
“Then what exactly is the conundrum?”
Irwin drummed a lone finger on the table. “It’s her home life, or more accurately, her ‘sperm donor’—her description, not mine. I had the displeasure of meeting him this evening. And as a result, I now believe I might have discovered why this kid avoids going home.”
Cornelia leaned forward. “This sounds serious.”
“I agree,” Irwin said, his lips twisted in a scowl. “Turns out that her…um…”
“Sperm donor.”
“Yes, thank you. He just got released from state prison, and he’s out on parole.”
“Messy.”
“He’s a real piece of work.”
“And the mother?”
“Tricky. I met her tonight at the library as well.”
“What’s she like?”
“She seemed ‘normal’ enough,” he said, making air quotes, “much more personable than her ex.”
Cornelia shrugged. “At least the girl has her mom.”
“Ah, well, this is where the plot thickens because I have also come to find out that she too has a murky past.”
“Murky as in?”
“Former drug addict. They both were. Actually, daddy dearest may still be. It’s hard to tell. Harper said he got time for assault and drugs.”
“Harper? I assume that’s the wife?”
“No. The kid.”
“Ah. That’s rough,” agreed Cornelia. “The stress Harper must be under—no wonder she camps out at the library. Poor thing lives with nothing but chaos and unpredictability.”
“That’s what I thought as well.” Irwin drank his tea.
“And what about friends?”
Irwin shook his head. “I’ve never seen her with anyone her age. In my humble and limited opinion, I think she prefers it that way.”
Cornelia grimaced. “That’s a strange comment to make.”
“If you met her, you’d know what I mean.”
Cornelia plucked another cookie from the tin. “And what part, if any, do you play in this family tragedy?” She bit down. “Ewww, I swear! Something’s wrong with these damn cookies.” Cornelia dropped the cookie on her plate.
“Good question. And to be honest, I’m not sure, except the kid has latched onto me. For whatever reason, Harper’s got it into her head that I can do something to help her.” Irwin threw his palms in the air. “I’ve barely spoken to this kid if you don’t count our daily exchange of obnoxious notes and verbal potshots.”
Cornelia laughed. “There’s got to be a good story in there. I’m sure of it.”
Irwin ran his fingers through his gray, coarse hair. “I need a haircut.”
“You do unless the homeless look is what you're aiming for, but don’t change the subject. How did you get pulled into all of this?”
“Oh. This gets better. Regan.”
“Regan?” snorted Cornelia. “The silly Pooh Bear girl?”
“The one and only. She phoned me this evening saying that Harper had locked herself in the women’s bathroom and refused to come out. He, the father, followed her to the library after showing up at her house unannounced and threatening to move back in.”
“Where’s the guy staying n
ow?”
“Harper said at a halfway house, but she doesn’t know for how long.”
Cornelia winced. “Hmmm, I sort of recall those places were called something else now…residential rehabilitation centers? Or was it a community correctional center?”
“I have no idea and care even less.”
“Is there any chance the mother will let daddy dearest back in?”
“Not from what I’ve gathered, but who knows?”
Cornelia tapped the table with her finger. “If I’m not mistaken, if he’s on parole, he’s not allowed to do that.”
“What do you mean not allowed?”
“I mean that he’s still considered a prisoner—just out on parole. From what I’ve heard, those places have strict rules in place.”
Irwin appeared perplexed.
“In other words, he can’t be just popping up all over the place like that. Don’t quote me, but I’m almost positive they need permission from their parole officers to go visit family. I suggest you look into that.”
Irwin nodded. “Good idea.”
“That would be a good start, right?” Cornelia asked optimistically.
Irwin shrugged. “Again, this is only speculation on the part of a troubled girl. Every story has two sides, and then there’s the truth.”
“Maybe.” Cornelia reached towards the tin to grab for another cookie then stopped. “And maybe not.”
Irwin slid the tin closer to her.
“No.” She waved him away. “I’m done.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.”
Irwin covered the tin.
“You know, Irwin, back when I volunteered at the high school, there were more students than I care to admit who came from these same types of challenged households. Good kids with a ton of potential but saddled with messed-up home lives. Their behavior would become erratic. Warmhearted one minute, withdrawn the next. I’m sure this Harper child loves her mother, but she’s probably feeling angry. Maybe hurt as well. Many of the kids I worked with blamed themselves for their family issues, upset that they couldn’t cure their parent’s substance abuse problems, which, besides being impossible, was not their job.”
“She did seem frightened of the father,” Irwin agreed. “I suspect he hurt her.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised. Drug abuse and domestic abuse go hand-in-hand. Let’s pray it wasn’t sexual.”
Irwin flinched. “Must you?”
“Yes, I must. It’s a real possibility and one you better be prepared for.”
“Me? Oh no, not me,” he said emphatically, shaking his head. “What can I do? I’m a librarian, for goodness sakes. Not a social worker.”
“Harper’s obviously reaching out to you, Irwin.”
“Then she’s reaching in the wrong direction.”
“There you go again.”
“What?”
“Crawling back into your hole to hide.”
Miffed, Irwin frowned. “For your information, my plate is full—practically overflowing. I can’t handle anything else right now.”
“Oh, poo. Utter nonsense. The girl picked you to help her. You can’t just turn your back.”
Irwin scowled.
Cornelia tried a different tactic. “Is she nice?”
“Who? Harper?”
“Who else are we talking about, ya big dope?”
“How would I know?” Irwin huffed. “She’s a teenager.”
“She’s also a victim.”
“She’s also an impertinent juvenile delinquent.”
“I seriously doubt that.”
Irwin moaned.
“Okay, maybe so, but at least this kid is awake and breathing on her own.” Cornelia faltered. She hadn’t meant to sound unsympathetic, but the words had slipped out before she could rein them back in.
Irwin pretended to pull a knife out of his chest.
“Sorry,” she said. “I probably went too far.” Cornelia appreciated how Irwin cared and oversaw Dakota’s care for years without complaint or fanfare. She respected how he made double and triple sure that anyone who worked at the hospital knew somebody loved and cared about the girl. Cornelia had suspected for the longest that the weekly bouquets were only the tip of the iceberg. Over time, Irwin’s attachment had become a sort of tunnel vision, a way to keep his connection with Gilly alive. But now, as his sleeping princess neared the end of her physical journey, Cornelia had noticed Irwin entering a dark depression, and she was worried.
Coma or not, Cornelia knew Dakota had filled a vacant, lonesome void in Irwin’s stunted personal life, albeit one-sided. She provided Irwin with a purpose; she was the consummate listener. Uncomplaining and unclaimed. As horrifying as Dakota’s long suffering had been over the years, her existence still provided Irwin with constancy. However, what Cornelia felt Irwin failed to realize was how his attachment to Dakota had succeeded to dominate his life to the point that he could no longer separate himself from the outcome, even if he tried.
Harper, on the other hand, was very much alive. And a real handful, from what she had gathered, more from what Irwin left out of their conversation. As far as Cornelia was concerned, the more obstinate and head-strong the kid was, the better, trusting that Harper could be the ticket Irwin needed to rejoin the world of the living as an active card-carrying member. Perhaps even the catalyst to help heal his shattered heart. “You can help this kid, Irwin.”
Irwin sardonically chuckled. “Like I helped Dakota?”
“Dakota is an entirely different situation, and you know it. Completely out of your control.”
“For all the good it did.”
“No!” Cornelia yelled. “I won’t let you do this to yourself. You never abandoned Dakota. You’ve been by that girl’s side through thick and thin, and that’s a lot more than I can say for her worthless tool of a father.” Cornelia despised Stanley Satterfield and didn’t care who knew it.
“You’re forgetting, Cornelia, Harper’s got a mother and father.”
“But she doesn’t have anyone to count on, which is why she reached out to you. Be an example for her. Show her that there are still adults in the world she can trust. Prove to her that not everybody’s out to use and abuse her. You can reach her, Irwin.”
“I don’t know how.”
“She’ll teach you. You just have to be willing to open yourself up to try. The rest will take care of itself.” Cornelia hated watching her good friend beat himself up for a crime he never committed. Languishing under some self-imposed punishment, guilt-ridden. It seemed beyond cruel. And as much as she hated to admit it, despite how much she loved Gilly, there were times like now when Cornelia wished she had never introduced them.
Just then, Bones sauntered his lazy self across the room over to his bowl.
“That reminds me—can furry dude stay with you tonight?” asked Cornelia. “I’m meeting some friends downtown for brunch tomorrow, and I’d rather not leave him alone. He’s been acting kind of clingy lately.”
Irwin glared down at the supercilious cat. “Sure.”
“Great.”
Irwin walked the dirty dishes to the sink.
“Well, time for me to pack it in for the night.” Cornelia feigned a yawn. “I’m exhausted, and I have a big day tomorrow.” She stood and stretched. “Remember, Irwin. Harper needs a friend right now and like it or not, you’re it.”
Irwin groaned and began washing out the mugs.
“Stop with all the moaning.” Then Cornelia knelt to whisper in Bones’s ear. “Keep an eye out on our mutual friend for me.” She scratched behind his ear. “I suspect he’s going through another rough patch. He’ll need us more than ever, even if the big dope doesn’t know it yet.”
Bones purred. Cornelia could have sworn that darn cat understood his mission and had to hold back from laughing as she watched him nestle in for the night, with one lazy eye glued on Irwin’s every movement.
CHAPTER 9
Darren
“You
’re late,” said Jay McCloskey, the resident supervisor. He waited in the hall, his arms crossed over his chest, leaning casually on the door frame. “You missed your call-in. Where were you? Answer in that order.”
“‘You’re late’ and ‘you missed your call-in’ are not questions,” answered Darren.
Jay didn’t seem to be in the mood to volley. “We have rules, programs, work requirements, and curfews. Are you with me so far, Crane?”
Darren nodded, slouching.
“That means you not only have to ask for permission before you leave, but you have to check in at specified intervals.” Jay gave Darren a tight-lipped smile. “If this is a problem for you, let me know now.”
Darren shoved his hands into his pockets. “I don’t have a cell phone.”
“You don’t have a cell phone,” repeated Jay. “Then I suggest you get one. No money? Get a job. Notice the common denominator?”
Darren nodded.
“Unless I know where you are and what business you have there, you don’t leave the premises, which frankly defeats the purpose of you being here.”
“What do you mean, purpose?”
“To re-enter society. Not as the resident parasite and malcontent you obviously are, but as a successful, contributing member of society. Now follow me.” Jay didn’t wait for Darren to respond and headed towards the back of the building to his office. “Crane!”
“Coming,” mumbled Darren, lagging behind. He fingered the worn, torn self-help posters on the wall with disdain, wishing he could make a damn decision for himself again.
“Take a seat.” Jay pointed to the single plastic-metal chair facing his desk.
Darren sat. He bent over, leaned his elbows on his knees, and ran his bony fingers through his short, cropped hair, preparing for the speech.
Darren hated the talks. Had them directed at him for most of his life, from grade school to middle school, and all throughout high school. Where high school left off, prison took over. What pissed him off more than anything else was the fact that the talks weren’t talking at all. More like one-sided reprimands lauded above him with the sole intention of making him feel small and inconsequential. His existence remained outside his control, but most definitely within theirs.
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