Hometown Hero's Redemption

by Jill Kemerer

  Discipline was worth the pain. If Jay would have gotten an ounce of discipline from his mother that week in December, he might have lived. And what about Treyvon? By the time she was assigned his and Jay’s case, Treyvon had been fifteen with eyes wide-open about life. She had cared about him. Her heart squeezed at the thought of him in juvenile hall. Since quitting her job, she’d made no contact with him. He was no longer her case.

  He might not be her case, but did that make him nothing to her?

  Her conscience prodded. Maybe he was her case. Not as a social worker but as a human being who cared about him. Maybe it was time to contact him. Find out how he was doing.

  Ask him to forgive her.

  She dropped to a picnic table bench.

  How could she ask him to forgive her when she hadn’t really forgiven him?

  She blamed him for Jay’s death.

  More than she blamed herself.

  Oh, God, I’m sorry. I try not to think about it, but I’m so mad at that kid. Why did he join that awful gang and give in to their demands?

  The day no longer seemed as bright. She needed to go home and sit with Zingo until the urge to help Treyvon or apply for the counseling position passed.

  Her heart wasn’t ready for either.

  Maybe a boring desk job was the way to go.

  Chapter Seven

  Bringing Wyatt to visit Chase was the right decision, wasn’t it?

  Drew studied the visitation room at the correctional facility. One wall was painted bright blue with a mural of fish. A bookcase with picture books and several tiny chairs were under it for small children. The rest of the room was filled with round tables with seating for two or three people. He, Wyatt and Chase sat at one of the tables. After the two-hour drive, they’d dropped Lauren off at a nearby mall before traveling the last few miles here.

  “You doing better in school?” Chase had teared up initially at seeing Wyatt, but after a few sniffs and a quick wipe of his eyes, he’d gotten down to business. “Are you keeping up with math? Reading books?”

  “School’s done.” Wyatt hugged his arms tightly around his body. “I don’t need to read.”

  “You have to keep up with reading over the summer.” Chase’s eye twitched. “Drew will take you to the bookstore. Pick out some good books for you.”

  Wyatt glared, then averted his gaze.

  “What was that look for?”

  “Reading is boring. I’m playing football.”

  Drew could practically hear Wyatt completing the thought, Just like you, Dad.

  “No. Absolutely not.” Chase shook his head.

  “That’s not fair.” Wyatt brought his hands, balled into fists, on the table. “Levi wants me on his team. His dad is the coach. It’s flag football. I won’t get hurt.”

  Drew exchanged a charged look with Chase and gave his head a slight shake.

  “We can talk about it more later, Wyatt,” Drew said. “Why don’t you tell your dad about yesterday’s end-of-school-year picnic?”

  Wyatt sighed, answering Chase’s questions in monosyllables. Maybe coming here was a mistake. Drew would do about anything to talk to Lauren right now. He needed advice. Or reassurance. Maybe both. But he’d had to check in his phone at the front desk when they arrived. He and Wyatt had signed in and gone through the security procedure with the other visitors. Wyatt had grown quieter with each passing minute, and his discomfort seeped around him like a bubble full of jelly. Drew could have reached out and touched it.

  “Lauren and I are going to play tennis next week. I’ve never tried it before, but I’m pretty sure I’ll beat her...”

  Drew raised his eyebrows at that one. At least Wyatt was talking without the huge chip on his shoulder.

  “So this Lauren, you like spending time with her?” Chase’s smile was tender as he listened to Wyatt.

  “Yeah. She’s awesome. But she listens to awful music.”

  “You’ll have to introduce her to George Strait.” Chase grinned at Wyatt, who grinned right back. “Show her some good music, right?”

  “Yeah.” Wyatt grew serious. “Are you doing okay here, Dad?” His forehead creased in worry.

  Chase blinked. “Well, uh, it’s not bad. I have a schedule, kind of like with football. I do things at certain times, and I work out. I have time to read, too.”

  “You’re reading on purpose?” Wyatt grimaced. “Why?”

  “I’m filling my mind with good stuff. All those years playing football were busy. I never took the time to slow down. I’ve got time on my hands now, and I’ve got questions.”

  Wyatt looked confused.

  “The books I’m reading are helping me answer some of those questions.”

  Wyatt chewed on his bottom lip.

  “Wyatt, will you do one thing for me while we’re apart?”

  He stared expectantly at Chase.

  “Fill your mind with good stuff.” Chase’s chest expanded, and he leaned back in his chair. “I’m praying for you. Keep going to church. Listen to Drew. And put in some George Strait for Lauren.”

  “I wish you were coming home with us, Dad.” Wyatt’s face fell. “Then I could play football and—”

  “You’re not playing football. Period. End of story.”

  The guard announced the visit was over. Chase looked emotional as they left. Wyatt didn’t make a peep until they finished their paperwork and were halfway to the mall to meet Lauren.

  “It’s not fair,” Wyatt said.

  “What isn’t fair?” Drew ached to pull over and hold Wyatt, but the boy’s stiff-as-a-steel-rod posture probably wasn’t ready to accept a hug. He didn’t blame the kid. Visiting the prison had been difficult for him, too, and he was a grown man. Between the guards stopping them on their way into the parking lot, the metal detectors, pat down, sign-in process, limited contact and strict rules throughout the visit, Drew felt completely and utterly exhausted.

  “Why does Dad have to be in jail? He didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “He did do something wrong, Wyatt.”

  “I would have done the same thing.”

  “I hope not.”

  Wyatt stuck his bottom lip out and turned away to face the window.

  “Look, that wasn’t easy, going to see him. It will be easier next time.”

  “I’m not going back.”

  Drew’s stomach dropped. “Why not?”

  “He wouldn’t even listen. He doesn’t care. I wish I could live with you forever, Uncle Drew.” The last words were practically spat out.

  Drew scratched his head. Why would Wyatt feel that way? Drew thought the visit had gone pretty well, all things considered.

  “He cares about you.” Drew kept his tone low. “He loves you.”

  When Wyatt didn’t respond, he tried to figure out what to say to get through to him. He couldn’t shake the feeling his quest to make life normal for Wyatt had just taken two enormous steps back. Thankfully, the mall entrance was up ahead. Maybe Lauren would have some insight in how to fix this. Whatever it was.

  * * *

  Lauren tapped her fingernails against her empty smoothie cup and stretched to see if Drew and Wyatt had arrived. Drew had texted her ten minutes earlier to say they were on their way. The sitting area in the center of the mall had comfortable faux leather chairs and was filled with busy shoppers.

  She had a bad feeling about the visit. The first time was always hard on kids. As much as she didn’t want the inconvenient feelings of caring about Wyatt, she had them. She cared deeply about him. And she knew he was hurting. She just knew it.

  As soon as she spotted Drew’s dark cropped hair above the crowd, she weaved through the shoppers on her way to them. Even fifteen feet away Wyatt looked pale and miserable. Her chest tigh
tened. How she wanted to take his pain from him.

  Not caring about the people trying to get through the aisles, she stopped directly in front of Drew and took Wyatt in her arms. She held him tightly, kissing the top of his head. He melted into her arms, his small shoulders shaking as he began to cry.

  She met Drew’s eyes over Wyatt’s head. She mouthed, “Give him a minute.” He nodded. Drew’s face was taut, his easygoing manner nowhere to be found. The visit must have done a number on both of them.

  Chase, you stupid jerk. If you only knew what you did to these two. I want to wring your neck.

  “It’s okay, Wyatt,” she whispered, holding him tightly. She’d never let him go. “It’s okay.”

  He sniffled and, keeping his head down, tried to wipe his eyes. Poor baby. Probably was afraid to let Drew see his tears. Tears of her own sprang up. Why did kids have to have parents in jail? Why?

  “Come on, honey. Let’s go somewhere private.” She straightened, keeping her arm around him, and led him toward the entrance of an upscale store. She’d scoped it out earlier. They rode the escalator in silence with Drew behind them, and she took them to the corner, where a nice restroom and lounge were tucked away. She kept Wyatt close to her on a sofa, and Drew sat in a chair across from them.

  “You were brave today, Wyatt.” She took his hand in hers and squeezed. He leaned his head against her upper arm. “I mean it. It takes a strong person to visit a prison.”

  Drew cleared his throat. “You would have been proud of him, Lauren. He didn’t flinch when the guards patted us down.”

  “Well, that wasn’t a big deal.” Wyatt sat up. Lauren wanted to tuck his head back on her arm, but she was glad he seemed to be recovering. Instrumental music played softly around them, and the scent of lilac from the nearby candle section filled the air.

  “It is a big deal,” she said. “I’m guessing Drew begged them not to touch him. He probably swatted their hands away.”

  “Guilty.” He grinned, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I don’t like people patting me down.”

  “I don’t, either.” Wyatt folded his hands in his lap. “I wish...”

  Drew’s mouth tightened into a thin line.

  “What?” Lauren prodded.

  “I wish he wasn’t in jail.”

  “I wish he wasn’t, either,” she said.

  “He doesn’t even care.”

  Drew opened his mouth, but she shook her head as nicely as possible to cut him off.

  “About what?” She kept her voice quiet, soothing.

  “About me. He won’t let me play football. He doesn’t care I only got to see him for a little bit and twenty billion people were in the room. He doesn’t care we don’t play video games. I miss our old house.”

  Wyatt’s body throbbed with pent-up anger. She feared touching him would make him snap, sending him into a million pieces.

  “He cares,” Drew said. “Trust me when I say he would do anything to live with you and play video games and hang out with you again. He just can’t.”

  “Drew’s right, Wyatt, but you still have every right to be angry about it.”

  Wyatt dropped his face in his hands, and his body shook with quiet sobs. Lauren wrapped her arms around him. “It’s okay. Let it out.”

  As she held him, Drew stalked to the archway. If Wyatt’s demeanor screamed “shattered,” Drew’s shouted “in over my head and angry about it.” He thrust his hands in the pockets of his jeans and rocked back on his heels, a grim expression on his face.

  Lauren reached into her purse and grabbed a tissue. She handed it to Wyatt, and he wiped his eyes and blew his nose. When he seemed like he had himself together, she tipped his chin up with her hand and looked into his eyes.

  “I’m glad you’re not holding it in.”

  He nodded.

  “Remember, it’s good to cry when you’re sad. When you’re ready, why don’t we go somewhere fun to eat?” She tilted her head to see what Drew thought about her proposition. His lips parted and he nodded.

  “Your choice, Wyatt.”

  Wyatt wiped his nose one last time and threw the tissue away.

  Lauren took a deep breath. Thank You, Lord, for letting me be here today. Thank You for letting me be part of his life, even if it’s only for a few months.

  “Do they have a Dave & Buster’s here?” Wyatt asked.

  “Dave & Buster’s it is.”

  * * *

  Three hours later Drew checked the rearview mirror. Wyatt had fallen asleep. After pizza and more games than Drew could count, they’d hit the road to drive home. The sun descended bright and beautiful in the sky, a welcome reminder of God’s daily blessings.

  “I can’t begin to thank you.” He glanced at Lauren. “Thank you. Thank you.”

  “I should be thanking you. I was glad I could be there for him.” Her sweet smile landed right in his heart. Even across the seats he could smell her tropical perfume.

  “I’m so far in your debt it’s not even funny.” He shook his head, feeling lighter than he had all day. “How did you know how to handle him? I had no idea what to say. He was so mad when we left the prison, and I thought the visit went pretty well. Shows you how much I know.”

  “I’m sure the visit did go fine.” She shifted to face him. “Seeing your parent in jail brings out emotions you have no control over. It’s not something most people have to do. It’s confusing.”

  He hadn’t really thought of it that way. He turned the volume of the country station down to hear her better. “Well, he claims he’s not going back to visit again.”

  Traffic on I-94 hedged them in, forcing Drew to slow until a semi passed. What if Wyatt refused to visit Chase? The caseworker might not let Chase have custody when he was released. It would be a crime for Wyatt and his dad to be separated longer than necessary.

  Lauren faced him. “Was it awkward between Chase and Wyatt? Did they seem uncomfortable? What was their conversation like?”

  Impressions of the visitation room came to mind. Unspoken emotions had bounced off every person in there, including him. “We all sat at a table. Chase wants Wyatt to read more.”

  She chuckled. “I’m sure he took that well.”

  “Yeah, right. He doesn’t see the point in reading.” He grinned, glancing her way. Man, she was pretty. Eyes on the road, Gannon. “He mentioned football, and Chase barely let him finish. It was just no, and that was it.”

  “Wyatt probably didn’t like that.”

  “Nope.”

  “Anything else?”

  “Not really. We talked about normal stuff. Nothing newsworthy.”

  She brightened. “I’m guessing Wyatt’s reaction was pure nerves. Maybe some anger mixed in. He’ll change his mind about visiting Chase. It might take time, though. Are you willing to wait?”

  “I’ll wait as long as I need to. Wyatt and Chase were always close. I don’t want that to change.” The vehicles were driving at a normal speed again, allowing him to relax his grip on the steering wheel. “You know a lot about this. Did you visit your dad in jail?”

  “No. I have no memories of him.”

  No memories of her father? He frowned. “So I’m assuming when he went to jail your parents adopted you?”

  “Not quite.” Her gaze remained level. “Apparently, my birth mother raised me until she died—I was three at the time—and then I went to foster homes.”

  Homes. Plural. The conversation was starting to bother him, but he needed to know more.

  “How many are we talking about?”

  She drew her knee up and rested her chin on it, tilting her head slightly. “Five.”

  “Five?” He hadn’t meant to bark. “Why so many?”

  Her smile faded. “The first was temporary because I had
nowhere to go when my mom died of an overdose. I think I was there a few months. I don’t remember. The next one I lived in for two years, but they had twins and another baby on the way, and I guess it was too much. I didn’t live at number three for long. And number four wasn’t a good fit, but they were friends with the Pierces, so it worked out for the best.”

  “When did they adopt you?”

  “I was seven.” Her face grew pensive. “Do you remember the day we walked to City Park? You told me about college.”

  He nodded.

  “That afternoon I went to my closet to look for a file. I found my old duffel bag. It’s stained, ripped and purple.”

  Where was she going with this? Who cared about an old purple bag?

  She continued, “My earliest memories are of shoving all my clothes, every tiny thing I owned—and I didn’t own much—into that bag each night.”

  “Why did you do that?”

  “I never knew when a social worker would show up and take me to a new home. It took me over a year of living with the Pierces before I trusted them enough to unpack it.”

  It was as if someone had shot staples into his chest. Hard to imagine the amazing woman next to him as a child so prepared to move constantly she’d kept a packed bag. “That’s terrible, Lauren.”

  “It’s why I am who I am. I wanted to help kids like me. But...” She shrugged. “Guess that didn’t work out so great, either. I think I’ll always be the little girl with a packed bag, waiting to be shuffled off to another home.”

  If an exit or rest stop had been nearby, he would have taken it. This wasn’t a conversation for his truck. He wanted to comfort her, hold her. But the cars whizzing past kept his hands planted on the wheel.

  “You’re so much more than a little girl getting shuffled off. You see that, don’t you?”

  She stared out the front windshield, her shoulder lifting slightly.

  “You understood what Wyatt needed today.”

  “Anyone would have done the same.”

  “That’s not true. I wish you’d stop doing that,” he said. “Wyatt needed you today—I needed you today—and you came through for us. That matters. It matters to me.”