Impossible Dreams

by Patricia Rice

  “I understand this blamed building is sitting on a multi-million-dollar piece of property and that someone tried to burn it down and will probably try again.” Cleo bit into the cold piece of toast Maya had left uneaten beside her cup of tea. “Axell isn’t stupid. You’re the jackass here.”

  Maybe she was. For the first time in her life, she’d chosen to take a stand, and maybe it was the wrong one. Heaven only knew, she had doubts enough to build a mountain. She’d always had doubts. She’d never had enough confidence in herself to finish anything except college. She supposed it was ironic that Axell had been the one to feed her the confidence she needed to fight for what she wanted. If she backed down now, she might never be able to stand up to anyone ever again.

  “The concept of this school is more important than anyone’s hurt feelings,” she said quietly, trying to convince herself as well as Cleo. “If I fail, then no one will ever try again. I can’t fail. Look at how much Matty has changed over these last few months.”

  She concentrated on her known accomplishments. “He wouldn’t even smile when I first got here. Now he bounces up and down with eagerness. He’s marvelous with animals, and tells the younger kids wonderful stories. That’s what I want to do here.”

  Cleo ripped off another mouthful of bread and chewed it jerkily before replying. “He’s still lousy at reading and writing. He’s got the books memorized, but he doesn’t know the words.”

  “He’s only five. His motor skills aren’t as strong as others at that age. But don’t you see?” Maya pleaded, looking up at her sister. “He shouldn’t be judged on his undeveloped skills. Maybe he’ll never be great at reading and writing. The world’s full of people who can do those things just fine. But how many people can nurture animals and tell stories and make children laugh? It takes all kinds. That’s what I want people to understand.”

  Cleo looked uncertain. “You’re dreaming. You can’t raise kids to tell stories instead of reading and writing. That’s ridiculous.”

  Maya patiently wiped Alexa’s face again. “You need to have him tested to see if he has any learning disabilities, or if he’s just immature in that area, but don’t you see? If I hadn’t given him confidence in his ability to take care of the animals, he wouldn’t have had the confidence to learn as much as he has. He used to throw his pencils against the wall rather than try to write his ABC’s.”

  “Shit, now you’ll have me believing this garbage.” Cleo stood up. “I’ve got to get back to the store. I still think you’re crazy about not selling this place.”

  She probably was. Maya watched her sister go, then picked up Alexa to give her the rest of her bottle. Alexa breathed a gassy grin, and Maya’s heart twisted. She wanted Axell to see his daughter’s first smile. She wanted him to see her crawl and walk and hear her say her first words.

  Tears sprang to her eyes, and she tried to concentrate on the principles that had brought them to this impasse.

  Axell had pushed her away as deliberately as every foster parent who’d given up on her. He’d known what he was doing when he told the mayor he was willing to talk about selling. Maybe she’d demanded too much, invaded his space, and made him uncomfortable.

  Except— Maya knew better. She couldn’t lie to herself.

  Axell loved her, and he was proving it by shoving her away because he was afraid of losing those he loved. And because she loved him, she was obediently swimming downstream.

  She wanted to laugh hysterically at the mismatch they’d made of their lives.

  Instead, she lay a sleeping Alexa into her cradle, cleaned out her teacups, and looked for their box.

  Thirty-six

  Some people are alive only because it’s illegal to kill them.

  Axell rolled out of bed the minute he was conscious of birds singing. He didn’t want to lie here remembering the mornings he’d woke with Maya in his arms, because then he’d start remembering her seductive chuckles and playful fingers and his already unassuaged arousal would reach painful proportions. A cold shower helped prepare him for another empty day of approving invoices and listening to idle chatter.

  Why had he ever thought the damned restaurant so important? He’d spent the better part of his life appearing there every day like some automaton, but it ran like clockwork even if he disappeared for hours at a time. Once he got rid of this little problem with the mayor, he wouldn’t need to worry over losing his license. He could take Constance to the beach. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d taken her to the ocean.

  He was beginning to think like Maya.

  Groaning, he scrubbed his hair, dried off, dressed, and staggered into the kitchen. Sandra wasn’t up yet. Constance was preparing her own breakfast. She gave him a haunted look, then drifted into the family room to watch cartoons. Sandra’s idea of taking care of Constance was an electronic baby-sitter.

  Remembering his daughter giggling and decorating pancakes with blueberries under Maya’s instructions, Axell gulped down a glass of milk and called it breakfast. Maybe tomorrow he’d go to the grocery and buy some pancake mix and blueberries and Constance could show him how to fix clown faces in the batter.

  Maybe tomorrow the sun would orbit the earth.

  He refused to wallow in self-pity. He could do this. It was simpler this way, without women in his life. He’d never learned to deal with them anyway. He could reach out to Constance without Maya’s intervention. He could quit spending eighteen-hour days at the restaurant. He wouldn’t swear he’d learn to cook or plant colorful flowers around the yard, but he could find a hobby of some sort to fill the empty hours.

  He glanced out at the maple he’d had planted to shade Maya’s garden. A cardinal sang “pretty-pretty” from one of the branches. The pink and purple impatiens beneath the canopy of leaves needed watering. The great gaping vacancy of his insides whistled hollow as if a cold wind swept through.

  He had to be the biggest jerk of all time. He couldn’t force Maya to sell her dream. She was living out there in that slum with Alexa, as unprotected as before their marriage. What the hell had he thought he’d accomplished? He’d succeeded only in placing them in worse danger.

  Selling the school was the sensible thing to do. The old house needed too much expensive work, the shopping center would destroy the rural atmosphere, the mayor would leave them all alone if they agreed to a right of way for the road, and whoever was behind all these disasters would presumably go away and leave them safe. The sale would create considerable cash flow to aid Cleo and her shop and give Maya a chance to open a new, more modern facility elsewhere. Keeping the school where it stood was stupid.

  Keeping the school was Maya’s dream. She’d never owned a home of her own, never had something that was completely hers. He’d installed her in a house his late wife had built and expected her to be happy. She had been. Axell could swear Maya had been happy here. Maya could be happy in a cardboard box. That didn’t mean she didn’t dream of a place of her own.

  Damn.

  Axell wandered into the family room to check on Constance. “I’m going in to the office. Give me a hug?” He didn’t want to sound plaintive, but it sure had that ring.

  Constance glanced at him, then huddled her shoulders so she looked like a possum playing dead. “Can I go to school for just a little while?”

  Well, if he sounded plaintive, she sounded just plain pitiful. He’d have to get used to it. This was for her own good. “It’s not safe, honey. We’ll find you a new school.”

  “Is Maya not safe?”

  His daughter was too quick for her own good. Axell massaged his forehead and sought an easy answer. There was none. “Maya’s a grown-up. She can take of herself.”

  He heard his own words with amazement. Maya could take care of herself. He didn’t have to do it for her. He’d known that. It just hadn’t sunk in. If she wanted to risk life and limb fighting for a falling-down building, that was her responsibility. Not his. He could offer to lend a hand or stand in her way or keep his nos
e out entirely, but it was her fight.

  She had thought they’d approached marriage as equals. He had thought he was taking on more responsibilities. He should have felt relief when she left. Instead, he felt as if the weight of the entire world had fallen on his shoulders. He hadn’t realized how much of his burden Maya had cheerfully carried.

  He didn’t like to admit he was wrong. He was never wrong. That’s how he’d gotten where he was today.

  Alone.

  Shit.

  Axell bent over and kissed his daughter’s hair, then ruffled it. “I’ll see what I can do, honey. We’ll get Maya back.”

  She beamed in relief and happiness. At least someone needed his help.

  With that one little grain of confidence to carry him forward, Axell aimed for the garage. He just didn’t know where he was going yet.

  ***

  September, 1981

  My lawyers have lost track of her. I’m frantic. She’s left her husband and disappeared with the babies. How will she live? How can she take care of them?

  Damn you and your temper, Helen. You’ve passed on the worst of both of us. And the best.

  I’ll find her, Helen. I’m a tainted old man now, too tired to fight. You’re gone, Dolly’s dying, our daughter doesn’t know I exist, and nothing seems worth the effort anymore. But I’ll spend every ill-earned dollar to find them.

  ***

  At the crossroad, Axell glanced to his left, in the direction of the school, then back to the right, in the direction of town. He wanted to see Maya. He wanted to set things straight with her.

  He couldn’t set things straight until he’d straightened out a few things in town first. Acting against the strong urge to turn left, he steered the Rover toward Wadeville.

  The first thing he saw when he hit town was a huge black Cadillac in front of Cleo’s shop.

  Swearing violently, he screeched the Rover into a U-turn, slammed to a halt in a loading zone past the Curiosity Shoppe, and jerked the key from the ignition. The first thing he would straighten out was Maya’s damned sister. He was in just the right mood for flinging her up against a wall, and smacking some sense into her.

  A tall bald-headed black man in an expensive pin-striped suit loomed over the counter, pushing his face into Cleo’s. As usual, Cleo wasn’t giving any ground, but Axell thought he saw fear flicker across her face.

  Not in any humor for diplomacy, Axell jerked the front door wide open and held it. “OUT!” he shouted. “Get your ass off my property before I throw you out!”

  The black man turned his head and gave him a glassy stare. “You, and how many others?” he asked coldly.

  All that unleashed testosterone slam-dunked straight into Axell’s bloodstream.

  Releasing the door, Axell grabbed the heavy metal kaleidoscope off its tripod. “Out,” he repeated with more calm than earlier.

  Cleo emitted an “eep” of dismay, whether for the kaleidoscope’s fate or his, he couldn’t ascertain. The black man sniggered and reached for his inside pocket-one of two moves Axell had anticipated. He hadn’t been All State quarterback because he was dumb, or slow.

  Before the other man could produce his gun, Axell swung. He had enough fury behind the swing to crack something. Unfortunately, it was the kaleidoscope and not the dealer’s brick-hard head.

  The man staggered but remained upright and groping for his weapon.

  Well, he hadn’t spent his adolescence in a bar without learning to fight dirty. Feinting with the remains of his weapon, Axell waited for his opponent to dodge, kicked high and hard, and almost winced in sympathy as his foot connected with its soft target.

  The other man screamed in mortal pain and crumpled.

  “My God, Axell,” Cleo whispered prayerfully, leaning over the counter to watch her tormentor squirm in agony. “Can you kill him now?”

  “Call the cops and give me something to tie him with.” Axell glanced around and found an extension cord plugged into Maya’s mobile collection. He snapped it out of the socket, then glanced warily at Cleo, who hadn’t moved.

  “I can’t call the cops,” she murmured. “They’ll revoke my probation. I can’t go back to jail.”

  “He’s a dealer, you can’t protect him,” he said coldly.

  “He’ll hurt Matty if I don’t,” she whispered.

  “Not after I’m done with him.” Axell jerked an expensively cuffed wrist away from the source of his prisoner’s pain and wrapped the cord around it. “Call the cops.”

  “You gonna pay for this,” the man on the floor muttered from between clenched teeth. “Nobody messes with me, man.”

  Axell ignored the empty threat and pinned his gaze on Cleo. “Where’s the dope?”

  He gave her credit for not being stupid enough to deny the obvious. She glanced nervously toward the back of the shop. “In the boxes labeled ‘china.’” She still didn’t reach for the phone. “Take him out of here, please,” she begged. “I’m straight. I promise. But I owe him a lot of money, and he’s got friends — ”

  “Damn straight,” the dealer shouted. “And you’re gonna pay, like I make all double-dealers pay.”

  “Go find that box,” Axell ordered. He’d be damned if he let the drug cops claim his building for illegal possession, and he’d be damned if he let a dealer go free.

  “You don’t touch my stuff, man!” the dealer screamed. “You got no right — ”

  Axell jerked the extension cord tighter around cuffed wrists, then searched the pockets of the pin-striped suit, locating the gun and car keys. “And call the cops or I’ll turn you in with this animal.”

  Terrified, Cleo ran toward the back and returned with a couple of small cardboard boxes. “This is all I could find.”

  “Don’t you dare!” The dealer struggled against his bonds as Axell stood up. “That’s high-quality stuff. Look, I’ll cut you a deal, same one I had with the old man...”

  Axell halted and stared down at the panicky dealer, his brain finally kicking in. “What kind of deal?” This man threatened kids. This man could kill people.

  “You just give me a key to this place, like I had in the old one. I need a new place to stash my stuff. I’ll cut you a piece of the take, just like I did with the old dude. You don’t have to get your fingers dirty a’tall.”

  “How much of the take?” Axell demanded, grasping for clues.

  “Depends. The old man had lotsa places to meet so the cops wouldn’t get suspicious. This one piddly building ain’t much.” More confident now, he negotiated.

  “What if I have lots of buildings?” Axell asked quietly.

  “Then we’re talking,” His eyes narrowed warily. “But you ditch on me, and you end up like Pfeiffer. He owed me big time, and I made him pay, and I got my own back, too.” He looked up at Cleo who had picked up the receiver again. “You’d better not finish that call, girl.”

  While the dealer was looking away, Axell shook his head slightly at her. Cleo hovered with her hand above the phone, watching both of them uncertainly.

  “You got your own back?” Axell asked calmly. “How?”

  When Cleo didn’t hang up, the dealer turned over and glared at Axell. “I ain’t sayin’ nuthin’ more.”

  Axell jerked his head at Cleo and threw her the car keys. “Put the stuff in his trunk where it belongs, then set the car on fire.”

  “Wait!” the dealer screamed.

  Cleo halted with her hand on the door.

  “I got connections,” the man threatened. “They’ll do most anything for a price. They take care of things for me. They’ll take care of her,” he warned, jerking his chin in Cleo’s direction, “if you don’t let me go.”

  “What if I want something taken care of?” Axell asked quietly, afraid to hear the answer but too close to the truth to stop now.

  The prisoner sensed the danger in his captor’s voice. Narrowing his eyes, he watched Axell carefully. “I get a piece of the action,” he warned, “so it costs.”

  “
If I want one of my places burned?” Axell suggested. Hiring arsonists to scam Yankee insurance companies was almost a Southern tradition.

  “Untie me, and we’ll discuss it.”

  Axell considered him. “What do you do if someone botches the job? Take him out, like Pfeiffer?”

  “Do it myself,” his prisoner exclaimed with disgust. “You know all about it, don’t you? All you white boys stick together. Well, I took care of the problem. That crack head messed up, but I fixed it last night. You’re working with a real professional. No one sees smoke at night. That heat just been smoldering until by now, the whole place is so hot, it will go up all at once. Even if it’s daylight, the place will be in cinders before they can stop it.”

  Axell thought his lungs would collapse and his heart stop. If he understood right...

  Heart beating wildly, he turned to Cleo. “Report a bomb threat at the school. Get the whole damned county out there.” He kicked the thug on the floor. “Where did you plant it? You’ll fry right now if you don’t tell me.” He reached to plug the extension cord into the socket — a useless maneuver, but he figured he could cut the wires and intimidate the hell out of the bastard if he didn’t get the answer he wanted.

  “Don’t do that!” the dealer screamed, eyeing the cord and the socket. “The old man’s dead. It ain’t as if I’m hurtin’ anyone.”

  “There’s a house full of children out there!” Axell shouted back. “Now tell me where you planted it or you’ll go to hell right here and now, without appeal.”

  Cleo was already yelling into the phone. The man looked terrified, then beaten. “Under the back porch, man. I didn’t mean to hurt no kids. The place was empty last night.”

  Dropping the cord, Axell dashed out the door.

  Before Axell could reach the Rover, Ralph Arnold stopped in his path, blocking his way. “You said we’d talk about the school, Holm.”