by Mary Manners
“I’ll bet you’re a good helper.” Carin tapped Gracie’s nose. “Did you stir the potatoes?”
“Uh-huh, and I got to sprinkle pepper on the green beans, too.” Gracie puffed out her chest. “Mama and Daddy say I’m a real good helper, and sometimes even Dillon. But mostly he just yells at me when I try to go in his room.”
“Gracie, do you want milk or juice?” Julie chimed in.
“Milk, Mama.” Gracie eased onto her tiptoes and tugged the hem of Carin’s blouse. “Does Scooter run away a lot?”
“No.” Carin shook her head. “Never.”
An alarm sounded in Jake’s head. He feared the cat hadn’t run away, but that something else—much worse—might have happened. Carin told him how much Scooter disliked Phillip.
“Well, when Scooter comes home, can I play with him?” Gracie’s voice broke into Jake’s thoughts.
“He’d like that.”
“Hey, Mama, did you hear that? Miss Carin said I can play with Scooter.” Gracie clapped her hands. “I wonder if Scooter will be friends with my puppy, too.”
“I heard.” Julie wiped her hands on her apron then handed Carin a bowl of potatoes to set on the table while Patrick finished carving the roast. “Now, find a place at the table. Dinner’s ready.”
“OK, Mama.” Gracie scrambled into a chair. “Sit next to me, Miss Carin. I want you to help me pick a name for my puppy.”
****
Gracie’s precious chatter was just the medicine Carin needed to take her mind off all the bad things—even if just for a while.
“Does Scooter like mice?” Gracie twirled her napkin around one finger.
“I suppose so.” Carin shrugged. “I haven’t seen any around the house.”
“What does he eat?” She propped her chin on an upturned palm and leaned closer, chewing a mouthful of potatoes.
“Food from a little can—turkey and chicken livers and things like that.”
“Chicken livers.” The tiny mouth drew into a pucker. “Yuck.”
“To Scooter they’re like candy,” Jake informed the child.
“But not to me. No, sir.” Gracie shook her head vigorously and turned back to Carin. “Do you play with Scooter lots?”
“Sure. He has a little ball with bells inside that he likes to chase. And he likes yarn, too.”
“Just like in the books Mama reads to me.” Gracie scooped another spoonful of mashed potatoes into her mouth while avoiding the small pile of green beans on her plate. “The cats always like balls of yarn.”
Carin pushed the food around her plate then forced down a small bite of baby carrots. She didn’t want to seem unappreciative of the time Julie took to cook, yet her stomach was so tied in knots it had little room for anything else.
“You don’t have to eat, Carin.” Julie seemed to sense her dilemma. “It’s no problem to wrap up your plate and save it for later. Maybe then you’ll feel a little better.”
“What’s wrong, Miss Carin?” Gracie’s maple-syrup eyes radiated innocence. “You don’t feel good? Or maybe you miss Scooter?”
“I do miss him.”
Grace sighed.
“He’s been gone the whole night and all day, too.” Carin dabbed at her eyes.
“We’ll keep looking, Miss O’Malley.” Corey dropped his napkin onto his plate. “We’re done eating.”
“What about the apple pie?” Julie asked, pointing toward the oven where it was warming. “Don’t you want a slice?”
“I’ll take a slice,” Patrick chimed in. “I know better than to pass up your apple pie, honey.”
“We’ll get ours later.” Corey pushed his chair away from the table, joined by Dillon. “After we look some more.”
“I’ll come, too.” Jake wiped his mouth with his napkin and drained his glass of iced tea. He took the ball cap from the floor beneath his chair and tugged it down tight over the crown of his head. “Come on, boys.”
“I should stay behind and help Julie clean up.” Carin surveyed the mess of dishes across the table. “It looks like a war zone in here.”
“I’ll help,” Patrick offered. “Nothing I like better than washing dishes with my beautiful wife.”
Julie leaned in to kiss him. “That’s what I like to hear, but why don’t you help Jake and the boys, instead?”
“If you insist.” Patrick kissed his wife back—square on the mouth—before she turned to run water in the sink.
“Ugh…totally disgusting.” Dillon’s chair legs scraped the tile. “I’m outta here. C’mon, Corey.”
Patrick’s laughter followed the boys out the door. “Wait for me.”
14
Moonlight filtered through the bedroom window as Jake rested in a chair, watching the gentle rise and fall of Corey’s chest beneath a comforter. The kid finally slept, the worst of the nightmares passed. They’d returned this night with a vengeance, and Jake was glad the bout was over.
Now that he had time to think about it, Jake wasn’t sure how they’d overlooked Scooter. The cat wasn’t found until that evening, after he and Carin, along with Corey, returned to Carin’s house after church.
But Jake would always remember the sound Carin made when she first saw the poor cat lying there in the front flower bed, just to the right of the steps, partially covered with wind-blown leaves.
“Jake, oh, no.” Her voice caught on a sob, and he rushed to her side. One glance told him Scooter was in dire straits. The cat’s rear leg was twisted at an odd angle, the once-sleek gray fur stiff and matted with mulch.
“Don’t look, Carin.” Jake stepped in front of her to shield her as he knelt among the mums for a closer look. Scooter’s body felt cold, and Jake was surprised to hear a faint yelp when he touched the injured leg. He slipped from his jacket and spread it over the ground, lifting Scooter and bundling him in the fabric. “He’s freezing, and he needs a vet, quick. Even with that, I’m not sure…”
“Let me hold him” Carin fell to the ground beside Jake, a fist pressed to her lips. “He must have been here for hours. How did we miss him?”
“I don’t know.” Jake drew his car keys from his pocket. “I’ll grab Corey, and we’ll head to the vet. Take Scooter, Carin.”
“Phillip did this…” Carin let out a sob as she carefully nestled Scooter in her arms. “He knew it would hurt me. Oh, Jake…”
Jake’s gut twisted and his shoulders tensed at the sound of Phillip’s name. His need to protect Carin kicked in, and he took her hand and led her toward the Jeep, calling for Corey as they stumbled along.
Once she’d buckled in, Scooter bundled on her lap, Jake raced toward the house and up the stairs. A fine drizzle of rain began to fall, dampening the ground and chilling him through the thin fabric of his cotton T-shirt.
“Corey!” Jake hollered, gathering Carin’s purse from the coffee table. “Come quick.”
Corey rushed into the living room, carrying his journal. “What’s the matter?”
“We found Scooter.” Jake swiped damp hair from his eyes and brushed drops of rain from his arms.
“Is he OK?”
“He’s…hurt pretty bad.”
Corey tossed the journal onto the coffee table and strode toward the front door. “Where is he?”
“In the Jeep with Carin. We have to get him to the vet hospital now.”
“Let’s go.” Corey’s shoes slapped concrete as he slammed the front door and raced Jake down the stairs. “Did that guy do it—the mean dude who broke in last night?”
“We don’t have proof, but Carin thinks so…and I do, too.”
“What are you gonna do, Jake?”
Jake rounded the car and slipped into the driver’s seat as Corey scrambled into the back. “I don’t know, but I’ll figure it out.”
“Why would anyone want to hurt him?” In the rearview mirror, Jake saw Corey’s lip tremble, and tears flooded his eyes. “He’s just a cat…he didn’t bother anyone.”
“I don’t know.” Jake slipped a ke
y into the ignition and cranked the engine.
“Scooter’s not whimpering anymore, Jake.” Carin gathered the mass of fur to her chest. “I think he stopped breathing.”
“No!” Corey sniffled, and his tears splashed the leather upholstery. “Hurry, Jake.”
In the distance, thunder rumbled. Rain splattered the Jeep, making it hard to see the road as Jake backed from the drive. A stiff wind tossed leaves along the grass.
Jake floored the gas and headed north toward the vet hospital while Carin’s sobs tore his heart to shreds.
“He’s not going to make it, Jake.” Tears slipped down her cheeks.
“We’re almost there. It’s just around the corner.” Jake placed a hand on her shoulder. “Pray, OK…just pray.”
A flash of lightning drew Jake back to Corey’s bedroom. He sipped from a cup of coffee and read his Bible by the glow of a nightlight, much as he’d done in the first days and weeks after Corey came to live with him.
The chair belonged to his mom—she used to rock him in it, and then Corey, when they were babies. Dad had bought it when they found out she was pregnant…his first gift to her for their baby. Now Jake found a bit of comfort in the cadence, a connection to the past that offered a bit of strength.
Nausea filled him as he thought of how Carin’s sobs battled the rain as they waited for word on Scooter. The veterinarian had whisked the poor cat straight to surgery that seemed to go on for hours.
When he’d finally emerged from the surgery suite, Carin stood, her shoulders heaving. “Is Scooter…is he…?”
“It will be touch and go for the next twelve hours or so”—the vet nodded—“but he came through the surgery just fine. I have high hopes.”
“Thank you.” She could barely speak as she slipped an index finger into her mouth and gnawed her nail.
Corey stepped forward, his T-shirt still damp from the rain. “Can we see him?”
“Not tonight.” The vet glanced away long enough to jot a note on the file attached to a clipboard. “He needs to rest. But you can come back in the morning. By then, the anesthesia should be out of his system and he’ll be on the mend.”
“I’m not leaving.” Corey crossed his arms. “I’m going to wait right here.”
“Corey, you need to rest, too.” Carin turned to him and brushed his hair back. She cupped his cheek with her palm, much the way their mom had. The gesture was so maternal it stole Jake’s breath. Corey’s eyes flashed, and Jake knew then just how much he missed their mother’s gentle touch. Carin swiped tears from her face as strands of hair clung to her cheeks and curled over her shoulders. “We’ll all go home and come back in the morning, OK?”
“Well…if you think that’s best.” Corey nodded. “I guess it’s OK.”
Thunder rumbled and shook the house, drawing Jake back once more. Corey rolled over in the bed, groaning, as Jake nudged the rocker harder. He wondered if Carin was faring any better in the sleep department. Jake was loath to leave her after they’d left the veterinary hospital, but she had insisted. What would people say if he spent the night—even if all he did was sleep on the living room couch?
He didn’t really care what anyone thought, but he did care about Carin…very much. Now, all he had to do was figure out what came next.
****
Carin sat at the kitchen table beneath a soft glow of light, sipping coffee and flipping through the Bible Jake had given her. Every creak of the floorboards or brush of a tree branch against the house jolted her senses to full alert. What if Phillip decided to return?
Scooter’s dish sat empty by the French doors, eliciting a sob as her gaze was drawn to it. He might never come home again—ever.
Just like Cameron and Mom.
The thought brought a lump to her throat, and she forced down a sip of lukewarm coffee, wishing she’d let Jake sleep on the couch after all. They’d probably all be better off rest-wise, since she guessed he wasn’t getting so much as a nap at his own house, either.
What was she doing here—in the middle of this mess? How had it happened? She didn’t have an answer, but one thing she did know for sure was that it wasn’t fair to Jake—or Corey, for that matter. Corey was torn up, sobbing like a baby while he watched Jake hand Scooter to the vet. The tears in his eyes made Carin want to wrap her arms around him and hug him tight, just like her own mom used to hold her.
She cared for Corey, felt a need to protect him much as she had Cameron. But even more than that, she was falling in love with Jake. She knew it as sure as she knew who’d injured Scooter.
Something inside her snapped, and she knew what she had to do. Things had gone far enough, and people were hurt. She couldn’t do anything about that now, but she could do something about the future…her future...before she lost everything—everyone—she loved, again.
15
“Here’s your journal.” Carin leaned back in her desk chair and handed Corey the notebook he’d left on her living room couch yesterday. The school was quiet, except for the hum of the floor-polisher down the hall. “I…didn’t read it, and you can wait until tomorrow to turn it in.”
“Thanks.” They had an agreement. He’d hand in the journal at the end of class each Monday, and only then would Carin read what he wrote. That way, if he jotted something in anger or frustration and then wanted to delete it by tearing out the page and writing something else instead, he’d have the weekend to mull it over. “I appreciate it.”
“Where’s Amy today?” Carin glanced at the clock above the classroom door. The school day had ended nearly two hours ago, and she assumed Corey had doubled back to the classroom following football practice. His hair was damp, and he’d slung his equipment bag over one shoulder. “I missed seeing her second period.”
“She has a cold, so her mom kept her home. She’ll probably be back tomorrow, but I can drop by her house and take her homework if you want.”
“That would be nice.” Carin jotted a quick note on a memo pad, then tore off the sheet and handed it to Corey. “Here you go. She’ll need her grammar workbook, so if you know her lock combination you might want to stop by her locker on your way out and get it. And please tell her I hope she feels better.”
“I will.” He juggled his loaded backpack with the equipment bag. “Jake should be here soon, but I wanted a minute to talk to you if you…have the time.”
“Of course I have the time.” Carin dropped her pen and motioned to him to have a seat at the desk nearest hers. “What’s on your mind?”
“Lots of things.” He unloaded his equipment bag and then his backpack onto the floor beside the desk. “I’m really sorry about Scooter, but I’m glad he’s going to be OK.”
“Thanks. It’s been nice of Jake to check on him during the day while we’re at school. The doctor said he’ll heal fine, but it’s going to take a while.” Carin set aside a handful of essays, forcing away the sadness that swept through. She fought to keep a tremor from her voice. “I’m so thankful you were there to help Jake. I don’t think I could have…I know I couldn’t have—it was awful to see Scooter hurting so.”
“No problem. I understand. I wanted to help.” Corey swiped shaggy hair from his eyes to look at her. “Jake said the guy who broke into your house probably hurt Scooter. Why would anyone want to do that?”
“He’s not…a very nice person.”
“I figured as much.” Corey leaned back in the seat and stretched his legs. “But why would he want to hurt you?”
“Because I wouldn’t give him what he wanted.”
“What did he want?”
“It’s complicated.”
“And you think I won’t understand.” Corey huffed and shook his head. “Because I’m just a kid.”
“No. It’s not like that at all. I don’t even understand it, really.” Carin sighed and shifted in the desk, turning toward him. She’d made a mess of things, and now, looking back on it all, she had a hard time understanding just how she’d allowed it all to happen. At the
time, Phillip had seemed genuinely concerned—even kind-hearted. She’d ignored every red flag…each niggle of doubt that had surfaced along the way, until it was too late. Now, everything seemed so clear, but it no longer mattered. The damage was done.
“It’s a long story, Corey, but Phillip hurt my brother. I think he…I mean, I know he bought alcohol for my brother, and it led to other things…bad things. I didn’t know that until later, kind of like putting the pieces of a puzzle together. But when I learned the truth, and confronted him about it, it made him mad. And I guess that’s why he hurt me—wants to still hurt me.”
“How did you find out?”
“I found a journal my brother kept…later on, after—well, just after.”
“How old was your brother?”
“Only seventeen. He was about to start his senior year of high school.”
“Wow.” Corey let out a low whistle. “Jake would have my hide, for sure, if he ever caught me with beer or anything like that.”
“Be glad for that, Corey. I know you think Jake’s tough on you, but it’s just because he cares so much and pays attention. Being a pastor, working with kids, he knows all the dangers that are out there…and he worries, too.”
“I know. Maybe not here”—Corey tapped a finger against the side of his head—“but here.” He pressed a splayed palm to his chest, right over his heart. “It still bugs the heck out of me sometimes, though. Everyone else gets away with stuff, but me…no way. I think Jake’s part hawk.”
“Maybe so.” Carin laughed as she placed her elbow on the desk top and rested her chin on the upturned palm of her hand. “How’s the newspaper coming this week?”
“Good. Amy did most of the work…since I have football practice and all.”
“The two of you work pretty well together, and I’m glad because I guess I did pile a lot on your plate.”
“Why?”
“You remind me of Cameron, before....” She lowered her gaze, the truth stirring a wave of emotions…and memories.
