Lindsay ran her hand through her hair as the mayor shook his head.
“The government funding now allocated to those programs would, however, be transferred to local school programs and the library.”
“What about town events?” Darlene Dawson said as she stood, looking more than ready to fight.
“We could hold them elsewhere.”
“Great. I assume your home’s available?” she said and a snicker ran through the crowd.
Good for you, Mrs. Dawson. The mayor’s four-thousand-square-foot home was the biggest in Brookhollow and it was no secret he held high-society events there frequently—although few residents ever received an invitation.
He smiled tightly. “The school gymnasium would be a suitable substitution, I think, and during the summer, fund-raising events could be held at the park.” He turned his attention to the crowd. “I realize this change would affect a lot of you and it may be hard to see the benefits—”
“I’d like to speak if I could,” Noah said, standing.
The mayor frowned then slowly nodded. “Of course. Everyone’s voice is welcome,” he said tightly.
Noah moved to the center at the front of the room.
Lindsay stared at him, aching for the man. Everything he’d worked so hard to achieve for the kids...
She’d heard about Dominic’s vandalism. It broke her heart to think of all the kids like Dominic who’d been doing so well under Noah and the other volunteers’ guidance and support.
He cleared his throat. “Unlike a lot of you, I haven’t been in Brookhollow long, so it’s probably surprising to see me standing here. For those of you I haven’t met, I’m Noah and I run the Turnaround program at the community center.”
A round of applause made him pause. He lowered his head and she noticed his cheeks redden. “Thank you. The Turnaround program helped eight kids secure employment this year. It’s helped even more graduate high school. These kids need this program.” He picked up a stack of papers from his chair and started handing them out. “These are the pictures and stories of every kid we’ve reached...and on the back is a petition to save the community center, to save this program and all the others the kids have learned to depend on.”
When he noticed her, Noah’s stone-cold stare pinned Lindsay like a mosquito to a pegboard and her mouth went dry.
She stood and grabbed her purse, rushing to the door and holding her breath until she was outside.
“Lindsay!”
“Noah, I’m sorry.”
“You’re running out of here, walking away from this as if it’s not your problem. I get it.” He handed her a copy of his petition and she glanced at the kids’ bios and pictures. Her eyes watered. “But, at least take a look at the kids the community center has helped and those who still rely on this support.”
“Noah, this isn’t an easy thing for me, okay? As you said inside, you didn’t grow up here—I did. That center holds memories for me. Good ones, great ones.”
“But even that’s not enough to change your mind, so I don’t have a hope in trying.” He shrugged. “I should have learned by now there’s no changing your mind about anything.”
She watched him climb the stairs to go back inside.
Her feet remained frozen to the spot.
Brookhollow may need the community center...but her family needed this deal.
* * *
LINDSAY MARCHED INTO Brent’s Dodge early the next morning, the invoice for the minivan repairs she’d received from Bailey’s Place in her hand. “I need to see Doug,” she said to the dealership’s receptionist.
“Doug Miller? Or Doug Cooper?” she asked.
She hesitated. What was the man’s last name again? “Whichever one is the biggest con artist,” Lindsay said.
“Ah, Doug Cooper. One second,” the young woman said, dialing the used-car manager. “Doug C to reception. Customer waiting.” She set the phone down. “He’ll be here in a minute.”
Lindsay checked her watch. She had an hour before her shift started at the clinic, but she needed a reliable vehicle for her and the kids, not the piece of crap this dealership had tried to pawn off on the clueless blonde.
Bailey had been apologetic that morning when she’d emailed her the invoice for the work she’d done on the minivan weeks before, but this wasn’t Bailey’s fault. Still, the thousand-dollar invoice was one Lindsay couldn’t exactly afford to pay.
Ten minutes later, giving her plenty of time to get even more upset, Doug walked through the main dealership’s front doors, wearing his signature black dress pants and dealership windbreaker. It was ninety degrees outside, yet the man wasn’t even sweating. No doubt lack of body fat kept him running cool all the time.
Well, he’d be sweating bullets in a minute if she had anything to do with it.
“Hi, Lindsay!”
“You sold me a lemon,” she replied loudly.
Several customers in the showroom stopped to look in their direction. She didn’t care if she was bad for business. People should know what they were really buying here.
Doug’s smile faded. “Uh, why don’t we head over to my office?”
“No. Let’s talk here. That piece of crap minivan broke down less than a month after I bought it and now I have an invoice for a thousand dollars for servicing and new parts.”
She waved the invoice in front of him.
Thankfully, Bailey had been able to locate cheap parts and had charged her next to nothing for labor, or she’d be in for more than the original cost of the van.
“It’s a secondhand vehicle, Lindsay, things break down. You didn’t purchase the extended warranties I suggested—”
“Are you kidding me? You’re hiding behind that? This is my fault?” Her voice rose and the general manager came out of his office.
Good. If she got nowhere with Doug, she could take this up with him.
He shot Doug a look and gestured he take this conversation elsewhere.
“Why don’t we go outside and have a smoke?” he suggested, reaching into his pocket for the cigarettes.
“I quit.” She folded her arms and stood firm.
“Look, our vehicles are sold as is. Now, if you’d bought the warranties I’d recommended several times, we could cover some of the maintenance costs you’ve incurred this month, but I’m sorry. There’s not much we can do.”
Buyer beware. She swallowed hard, unsure if that was it. What else could she say? She hadn’t bought the warranties, but she’d trusted that the ten-year-old vehicle would last longer than it had without so many issues.
“So, that’s it? You’re not going to help me? You’re standing behind your company policy and basically I’m screwed?” She bit the inside of her cheek. She refused to cry. This jerk didn’t deserve that satisfaction. Besides, with everything else going wrong these days, car trouble should be last on the list of things to cry about.
Doug softened. “Please, come over to my office and I’ll see what I can do, okay?”
She hesitated, wondering if she should talk to the general manager instead.
“And actually, I’m glad you stopped by.”
“Yeah, right.”
“No, really. I mean, you’re totally killing our sales department right now, but I have something in my office that belongs to you. I found it in your trade-in.”
Her eyes narrowed. “I cleaned out the trade-in.” She’d gone over every inch twice.
“There was a file folder that had fallen between the passenger seat and the center glove compartment. Looked to be important. And also a letter. I’ve been meaning to call you. Come on, I’ll get it for you.”
A letter? Her heart stopped.
* * *
BACK IN HER minivan ten minutes later, with a promise from Doug that t
he dealership would cover half her invoice costs, Lindsay placed the larger envelope containing the information regarding the company on the passenger seat and stared at the white letter-size envelope in her hand, her name on the front in Nathan’s handwriting.
The explanation she’d been wanting from her brother was in her hands and she couldn’t gather the strength and courage to open it.
Would it be a how-to list about how to take care of his children? That would have been helpful a few months ago. Her fears about raising them were still there, but they were motivating her to do better, to be better, to make better choices, instead of the crippling indecisions they’d once been.
Opening the envelope and unfolding the piece of paper inside, she took a deep breath. Then holding the letter with two shaking hands, she read it.
Dear Linds,
With any luck, you will never read this letter as, being the firstborn, you’re supposed to die first. But somehow I think you’ll outlive me anyway. I think you’ll find a way to flirt your way out of death.
I respect and admire you, even if I’ve never told you before. You are you—for good or bad, like it or not—you are you. When Rachel and I decided to name you legal guardian of our kids in the event of our death, we obviously hoped the day would never come, especially since we love our kids so much we couldn’t stop at two or three or four... We’re leaving you with five. But before you freak out, just know this—we expect you won’t raise them exactly the way we would have, but I’m okay with that.
I can rest in peace knowing my children are with you for one simple reason. Above all else, you will keep them safe. And what more could a father ask for? I know this for sure because you always kept me safe.
I haven’t said this in a long time... Forget it, I’m not saying it now, either, because I don’t think I need to.
Be good, Linds, and just do your best.
Nathan
Her breath was escaping in tiny pants as she fought to control the overwhelming emotions closing in on her. Tears flowed freely down her cheeks as she folded the letter with trembling hands and slid it back into the envelope. Hugging it to her chest, she relaxed against the seat.
“Thank you, Nathan,” she whispered.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
LINDSAY COULD BARELY keep her eyes open. Her first day back in Emergency since the accident, the twelve-hour shift feeling twice as long as normal. But she’d made it through.
A quick glance at the clock revealed two minutes left on her shift. Close enough, she thought, heading toward the staff room. When the emergency doors opened behind her a second later, she cringed. If only she could pretend not to have heard them.
Sighing, she turned.
The sight of the stretchers coming in through the doors made her heart pound and the memory of the night her brother and Rachel had been wheeled in came flooding back. She ignored the queasy feeling in her stomach and met the paramedics.
“What have we got?” she asked before glancing at the young man on the stretcher. Oh, no. “Dominic? What happened to you?”
The boy’s eyes were swollen and bruised and his nose was clearly broken. The white sheet over his body covered any other damage, but she suspected his injuries didn’t stop at his face. He tried to speak but started coughing, grabbing his rib cage in pain.
Lindsay turned to the paramedics. “What happened?”
“Mrs. Dillon called 9-1-1 when she saw him limping home an hour ago. He passed out on the sidewalk across from her house.”
“Okay, take him to the third room down the hall. I’ll page Dr. McCarthy.”
Ten minutes later Dr. McCarthy and Lindsay examined the extent of the boy’s injuries. “Two broken ribs on the right side and a lot of bruising. That’s all I can determine without X-rays. We’ll send him right away.”
On his left, Lindsay was setting his IV. “Has anyone called his mother?”
Dominic’s eyes widened and he shook his head, grabbing her hand.
“What’s wrong, honey?” she asked, sympathetically as she noticed tears in the teenager’s eyes.
“Don’t call her...please... Call Noah.”
Lindsay swallowed hard before nodding. “Okay, I’ll call Noah...but then he’ll have to contact your mom, okay?”
Tears ran down the boy’s face as he nodded.
Outside the examining room, Lindsay dialed Noah’s number, her hand shaking slightly. They hadn’t spoken since the night outside the town hall and though he’d been at the clinic earlier that day for his clearance form for his healed leg, he hadn’t asked for her and she’d waited—okay, hid—in the staff room until he’d left. Calling him now, with bad news, was the last thing she felt like doing.
The phone rang once, and then went straight to voice mail. Fantastic. Now he was avoiding her. Not exactly good timing, Noah, she thought as she hit Redial. This time the phone didn’t even ring before going straight to voice mail. She hung up and clicked on the last text message she’d received from him.
Pretty girl, stop avoiding me, it read.
Ironic.
Answer your phone, it’s an emergency, she texted.
Immediately her phone rang.
“Are you okay?” he asked. The worry in his voice erased any anger she felt.
“I’m fine. It’s Dominic. The paramedics—”
“I’ll be right there.”
* * *
“I BET TEACHING me how to fight doesn’t seem like such a bad idea now, huh?” Dominic croaked through his breathing mask in the hospital bed.
Noah’s stomach tightened at the sight of the teen’s excessive injuries. This was more than a schoolyard bully fight. And somehow he’d known this would happen.
“Knowing how to fight doesn’t always prevent injuries.” He sat in the chair next to the boy’s bed. “What happened?”
Dominic shrugged. “They attacked from behind. I really don’t know.”
“You’re the worst liar I know. Want to try the truth this time?”
“It was Erik and his friends, okay?”
“Your own cousin did this to you?” He clenched his teeth.
This wasn’t the first time Dominic had stood his ground against his cousin, and the deep bruising and gashes on his face, making him swollen and unrecognizable, were the price he paid.
“So, will you teach me?”
“I’ll teach you how to defend yourself better. Duck and block,” he said. At Dominic’s small size, he barely stood a chance against the bigger boys, especially when they rarely acted alone.
“Come on, man, this is going to keep happening to me...” He rested his head against his pillow and winced in pain.
He sat forward, grateful that Lindsay waited in the hallway, as he said, “Look, I’ll teach you a few basic moves, okay? Any day now I’m sure you’ll get your acceptance letters to those colleges you applied to for the winter semester and be leaving Brookhollow anyway.”
He wished Dominic had had enough credits to apply for the fall semester. He would have already been settled in at college and he’d have avoided this attack. If he could stay on track until December, he would be safe in a dorm room, away from his cousin, on his way to a degree and making a life for himself.
“I got them,” he muttered.
“When?”
“Last week.”
Noah’s eyes widened. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Had the boy not gotten in?
“I wanted to, but then everything with the community center happened and you had enough on your mind,” he said with a cough, clutching his side.
“Well? What did they say?”
“I was accepted to all of them.”
He touched the boy’s shoulder. “That’s great, man. Congratulations.”
Dominic frowned and
shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. I can’t go.”
“Oh, you’re going,” Noah said with a firm nod. If he had to pack the kid up and drive him to one of the campuses himself, he would. In fact, maybe there was a way he could move him to New York or Boston or wherever he decided to go early...before the term started. Maybe he could get a part-time job for a few months before classes started. Once he was feeling better, of course.
“My student loan application was denied. I can’t afford to go.” Tears rimmed his eyes and he looked away.
Noah frowned. Maybe the boy hadn’t filled them out correctly.
“What about the money you saved from your after-school job?” It wasn’t enough to pay for the year, but the boy had worked at the hardware store in town since he was fifteen.
“It’s gone.”
Noah’s fist clenched on his lap. “Tell me where I can find Erik,” he said, his voice hard.
“No, it wasn’t him. Mom’s insurance ran out.”
Dammit.
The boy had far too much responsibility placed on his shoulders. He had so much potential, so many opportunities ahead of him, and he was stuck. How on earth could the student loan application have been denied? The boy and his mother lived on her disability income, which was barely enough to keep a roof over their heads. If Dominic didn’t qualify for student aid, who did?
Noah took a deep breath. “What happened with the loan? What was the reason they gave for denying it?”
“My dad makes too much money.”
His dad? The jerk who’d left him and his mother with nothing? That guy. The one who paid zero in child support and hadn’t seen his son in years?
Unbelievable.
How the government could even consider that income when calculating Dominic’s need for additional support was baffling.
He ran a hand over his head. “Okay, well, we’ll figure something else out.”
“It’s okay, Noah...it is what it is,” he said, closing his eyes.
Noah sat back in the chair. No, he refused to accept that.
One way or another this kid was going to college.
* * *
Fighting for Keeps Page 19
