by Neesa Hart
“And nobody wants to adopt an emotionally disturbed eight-year-old. Is that it?” Cleese asked.
“Something like that,” August said.
The judge looked at Zack. “This goes a little beyond issuing a restraining order against some old woman with a personal grudge, Zack. We’re talking about intervention of the boy’s legal guardian.”
“A step-father who surrendered custody of the child three years ago. I’d bet you real money that Odelia Keegan is responsible for his sudden interest in his son.”
“Can you prove that?”
“No.”
“Do you think she offered to pay him if he tried to retrieve the child?”
August gave Zack a sharp look. She hadn’t even considered the possibility. “Do you?”
Zack nodded. “I think it’s possible.”
Fulton Cleese shook his head. “But until you can prove that, I can’t help much. The state takes these things very seriously. If a child’s natural parents want him returned to the home, we like to consider the possibility. It may be in the best interest of the child.”
“This time it’s not,” August insisted. “Teddy is terrified of him. He’s violent.”
“Are you sure?” Cleese asked.
“He hit August yesterday,” Zack said quietly. “In front of the boys.”
Cleese’s answer was a low, angry curse. He picked up the pen on his desk. “I’ll give you another restraining order. And I’ll go ahead and sign off on the fostership papers, but if George Snopes is the boy’s guardian, you’re going to have to plan on a court appearance.”
August’s mind traveled to a day when she’d sat, wearing her best dress, on the bench outside a judge’s chambers. Her feet hadn’t reached the floor, and she’d entertained herself during the long wait by swinging her feet back and forth under the hard wooden seat. She didn’t even recall the outcome of that interview; she remembered only that the imposing inside of the judge’s office had scared her to death. She pictured Teddy waiting for a similar interview and shivered. “When?” she asked.
“Soon,” Cleese said. “I wouldn’t put it off.”
Zack shifted in his chair. “Odelia Keegan’s lawyer claims that he’s already arranged a court hearing challenging August’s custody.”
“He may have.”
“Who’ll hear the case?”
“I’d have to recuse myself if you remained on the case,” the judge told Zack. “If I didn’t, my objectivity could be questioned, and that would hurt you in the long run.”
“I understand.”
“So you’d have to deal with Sam Laden.”
“Is he tough?”
“Samantha Laden is a great judge, with a heart the size of Texas. I’m not sure she’d be able to see the forest for the trees in a case like this. It would depend on how good an actor Snopes is. If he convinced her that he’s heartbroken at the loss of his kid, she’d be tough to handle.” With a quick economy of motion, he signed the stack of papers on his desk, then handed them to Zack. When he turned back to August, his pale blue eyes held a look of compassion that eased the ache in her heart. “Don’t worry, Ms. Trent. The state is going to do everything it can to make sure your kids are well cared for. If what you’ve told me is true, you shouldn’t have any problem maintaining custody.”
Zack dropped the paperwork in his briefcase. “Thanks, Fulton. We’ll be in touch.”
“Any leads on what’s got this Odelia character in such a twist?”
“Maybe. I hope to know something in a couple of days.”
“Hmm.” Cleese leaned back in his chair to prop his feet on his desk. “Considering that you’re used to staving off clients like Joey Palfitano, she must be quite a battleax to have held you off so long.”
“She is.” He snapped his briefcase shut. “But she’s got nothing on Joey.” Holding out his hand to August, he asked, “Ready?”
She slid cold fingers into his, and tried to cling to Fulton Cleese’s promise as Zack led her from his chambers.
Chapter Nine
He slanted his third look at her on the way home from Hampton Roads. August hadn’t spoken in the three hours since they left Fulton’s office. Her hands remained clamped in her lap. Her gaze focused on a spot far beyond the scenery. Twice he’d opened his mouth to offer words of comfort, then changed his mind. She was lost to him now. Her body sat next to his in the passenger seat, but her mind was miles, or years, away.
He hadn’t missed the panicked look on her face when Fulton suggested a court appearance. The demons of her past were hot on her heels, and Zack had discovered an anger burning in his gut as he watched her battle them in silence. Someone had done this to her. If his hunch was correct, it hadn’t been parents who didn’t want her.
It had been Odelia Keegan.
He’d built his reputation based on his hunches. They rarely failed him. Grimly he thought of Joey Palfitano. Until recently, he’d been batting a thousand. Joey had deceived him, true, but he had an unshakable conviction that Odelia was somehow behind the tragic circumstances of August’s life.
His hands tightened on the leather-covered steering wheel as he entered the outskirts of Keegan’s Bend, where a “sign read Keegan’s Bend, Virginia, Welcomes You. Welcomes you, he thought, unless you happen to threaten Odelia’s corner of the universe. The thought of the old woman finding a man like Snopes to terrify an eight-year-old child was enough to send Zack’s temper into the danger zone. For August’s sake, he managed—barely—to keep his anger in check. He needed proof before he’d have Odelia where he wanted her. And when he did—his gaze slid to August’s pale profile—he’d hold nothing back.
They’d just turned into the driveway of her large Victorian-style house when August mumbled, “Thank you,” beneath her breath, then hurried from the car. With a worried frown, Zack followed her up the steps.
The door opened on bedlam.
Bo sat crying on the couch. Jeff was yelling at him to shut up, while Lucas held a flailing Chip away from Josh. Josh stood on the coffee table, precariously balancing ajar of colored rocks that he was threatening to drop. Teddy was attempting to wrest the jar away from him, while Sam had hold of Josh’s feet as he tried to topple him off the table.
Zack watched as August’s blank gaze traveled the scene in the room. Emma rushed from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron. “Thank goodness you’re home, August. I told them there’d be hell to pay when you got here.”
Sam noticed August’s presence first. As if by silent command, the noise stopped, except for the soft sound of Bo’s muffled sobs. August whispered. “Have they been like this all day?”
Emma wiped a plump hand on her forehead. “Fraid so. I’ve threatened ’em with everything I could think of. I swatted Josh’s behind a time or two. Lucas’s, too. But they’ve done nothing but bicker and fight since you left this morning.”
A tear formed in the corner of August’s eyes. Zack watched its slow progress over the rim, and down her cheek. Two more welled over, then plopped onto the blue linen of her suit. “I’m sorry,” she told Emma, then fled up the stairs to her room.
Zack’s gaze followed her retreat. When he turned back to the boys, they were still frozen, watching in comic horror as his gaze narrowed on them. “Josh,” he said. “Off the table. Lucas, let go of Chip. Everybody separate. Now.”
Lucas gave him a belligerent look. “But he—”
“Now.”
The authority in his tone sent bodies fleeing to the far corners of the room. Zack turned to Emma. “Thank you for staying with them today. I’m sorry they gave you a hard time.”
“Is August all right?” Emma asked.
“She will be.”
Emma shook her head as she reached for Josh. When her fingers closed on his earlobe, she yanked him over to stand with her. “I’ll be taking Josh home now.” With a firm grip, she pulled the jar of rocks from his hand. She set it on the television.
Josh kept wiggling, trying to break
free of her tenacious hold on her ear. “You’re hurting me.”
“That’s not all I’m going to do to you,” she warned him. “Out in the car. Scoot. It’ll give you time to think about what’s going to happen when we get home.”
Josh fled the house. Emma scooped up her purse, then gave the boys one last blistering look. “I hope you” re proud of yourselves,” she told them. “August needed your support today, and instead, you’ve all acted like a bunch of hooligans.” She turned back to Zack. “You’re sure you don’t need me to stay?” she asked. “I’m good at swatting butts.”
“I’m sure. It’s nothing I can’t handle.”
“I’ll be going, then. Dinner’s in the oven, if you’re hungry.
“Thanks.” He held open the door. “Sorry again for the trouble.”
On her way out, she laid a hand on Zack’s sleeve. “I do think it has a lot to do with yesterday’s episode. They’re a bit upset.”
“It’s no excuse for bad behavior,” Zack told her. “I think August forgives them too much sometimes.”
“They’ve had a rough time of it,” she said beneath her breath.
“They don’t know the half of it.”
When Emma left, he pushed the door shut with a carefully precise click.
Six sets of eyes watched him with varying degrees of wariness as he turned to face them. “Is everybody proud of himself?” he asked.
They all started talking at once. Zack held up a hand. “Nothing,” he said. “Don’t say anything.”
Jeff took a step forward. “But—”
“I don’t want to hear it,” Zack told them. “There’s no excuse for any of this. You were rude to Emma, you upset August, and now you get to deal with me.”
“What are you going to do to us?” Chip asked, his eyes wide.
“I’m going to do something August should have done a long time ago.”
Bo momentarily stopped crying. “What?”
“I’m going to teach you that you can’t go around acting like a bunch of delinquents, then expect people to forgive you for it because your lives are hard.”
“What do you know about it?” Lucas demanded.
“More than you think,” Zack told them. “And if I wasn’t so angry, I might tell you.”
Lucas snorted. “Man, you don’t know nothing. You got no clue what it’s like to grow up when nobody wants you.”
“I’m not getting into this,” Zack said. “It’s not about me. It’s about the fact that August has given you everything, all of you, and right now, when she needs to know she can count on you, you pull a stunt like this.”
Sam sneezed. “We didn’t do nothing. We were just trying to get Chip’s rocks back from Josh.”
“I don’t want to hear it. This had nothing to do with that little episode when we walked in, and everything to do with the way you’ve been behaving all day. Sam and Jeff,” he said, “is your father home?”
“Yeah,” Jeff said, wary.
“Then go there,” Zack said. “And don’t think you’re off the hook. I’ll be calling him tonight.” Recognizing that this could be their last chance to flee, they hurried out the door, leaving Zack with August’s four kids, one in each corner of the room. “Now. I want everybody upstairs, in bed, lights off, mouths shut, eyes closed, in five minutes.”
“It’s not our bedtime,” Chip told him.
“Tonight it is.”
“August always lets us stay up until nine-thirty,” Lucas said. “It’s only eight.”
“And tonight, I’m in charge. Bedtime is now.”
“We haven’t eaten yet,” Bo said. “Mrs. Prentiss made us wait for you.”
“Then I guess you’ll be extra hungry at breakfast, won’t you?”
Lucas glared at him. “You can’t make us go to bed without eating.”
“Watch me.” Teddy’s eyes grew huge in his small face. Zack pointed to the stairs. “Go. Now.”
Teddy and Bo cracked first. They tumbled over each other in their rush for the stairs. Chip stalked by Zack, frowning. “I want my blue rock back” he told him. “You can’t keep it.”
“Tough,” Zack said. “You gave it to me. I’m keeping it.”
“I didn’t know you were gonna be so mean.”
“Now you do.”
With a disgruntled frown, Chip stomped up the stairs. Zack faced off with Lucas. The boy’s face was set in a rebellious pout. “You’re not in charge of me.”
“Tonight I am.”
“Yeah? Who says?”
“I do.”
“What if I don’t go? What are you gonna do? Hit me?”
Zack exhaled a long breath. “You know, Lucas, one of these days you’re going to learn that if you treat the whole world like dirt, they’re going to do the same thing to you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Just that maybe your life would be a little easier if you didn’t walk around with that chip on your shoulder.”
“Well, if people like you wouldn’t try to boss me around, maybe I wouldn’t have to.”
Zack recognized the bravado. “Listen, I know how you feel.”
“Sure you do.”
“I do.”
“You got no idea how I feel. You ever been dumped out on the street by some woman who wants to knock you around all the time?”
“You ever been abandoned by some old man who wants you to raise his twelve kids?” Zack shot back. Lucas stared at him. “That’s right,” Zack continued. “When I was a little older than you, my father left us. I was the oldest of thirteen children. My mother died three years later. Taking care of the family was my job.”
The tough set of Lucas’s face began to fade. “What a jerk,” he muttered.
“First-class.”
“My father left, too.”
“What about your mother?”
Lucas shrugged. “She couldn’t handle taking care of me, so she gave me to the state.”
Zack’s heart twisted around in his chest. Three months ago, he’d been questioning whether or not he even had a heart. Now, it was doing somersaults inside his body every time he walked in August’s house. “I’m sorry. How old where you?”
“Six.”
“You been mad at the world ever since?”
He saw Lucas’s expression falter. “What do you mean?”
“I mean that your mother abandoned you, and it made you angry. How long have you been angry?”
Lucas frowned. “I don’t know.”
“Are you angry at August?”
“Hell, no.”
“Sure about that?”
“Sure I’m sure. Why would I be mad?”
“She’s keeping you here, isn’t she? If it wasn’t for August, if you didn’t have a place to stay, your mother would have come back for you by now. Isn’t that right?”
“You’re wrong.” Lucas’s lips had begun to tremble.
“Come on, Lucas. When is she coming back?”
“You don’t know nothing about this.”
“When? She is coming back, isn’t she?”
“’Course she is.”
“As soon as she gets enough money. Is that the story?”
“My mother is gonna come get me. And it ain’t gonna be like that Snopes guy, either. She wants me.” His expression started to crumble. “She does,” he insisted.
Zack crossed the room in three quick strides. The grown-up facade Lucas carried like armor had begun to crumble. A frightened, lonely ten-year-old child lay beneath, wanting desperately to be comforted. Without waiting for permission, Zack hugged him.
He’d had this exact conversation with Rafael, who’d spent weeks with his nose pressed to the window, waiting for a sign of their father. At the time, Zack had been too angry, too betrayed, to offer the comfort his brother needed. He’d failed Rafael. He knew better now.
“Lucas—” he ruffled his fingers in the boy’s blue-black hair “—no matter what your mother does or doesn’t do, it’s not
your fault. She didn’t leave you because of anything you did.”
Lucas’s head wagged back and forth in a miserable denial. “If I’d been better, she wouldn’t have sent me away.”
“That’s not true.” Zack painfully lowered himself to one knee. He waited until Lucas’s gaze met his. “That is not true.”
Lucas wiped his eyes with his sleeve. “What if she ain’t coming back?” he whispered.
“Then you’ve got August, and Chip, and Teddy, and Bo, and Emma, and Jeff, and Sam, and Josh, who care about you. When you have people who care about you, you can handle anything.”
“What about you?” Lucas asked, holding his gaze with frightening intensity. “Do you care?”
“Yeah,” Zack told him. He refused to think about the funny pain that seemed to have taken up permanent residence in his chest. August and her kids were tearing down his carefully constructed reserve, and he couldn’t seem to do a damned thing about it. “Yeah, I care.”
Lucas studied him for several more seconds, then broke free of his embrace with an awkward shrug. “I better go upstairs,” he told Zack. “Chip always has trouble putting on his pajamas.”
“Why don’t you go help him?” Zack said. “I’m going to check on August.”
“All right.” He made it halfway to the stairs before he turned back. “Tell her we’re sorry, will ya? She doesn’t like it when we fight.”
“I’ll tell her.”
Lucas hurried up the stairs, leaving Zack in the darkening interior of August’s den. He checked the locks, switched out the lights, then headed for the kitchen. The smell of Emma’s lasagna made his mouth water. Belatedly he realized he and August hadn’t eaten since the stale sandwiches they had in the courthouse cafeteria. He prepared two plates, grabbed a bottle of wine, a glass and flatware, then headed for the stairs.
As he passed by the boys’ room, he heard softly whispered admonitions through the door.
“I want to wear the Superman ones,” Chip was saying.
“Wear mine, then,” Lucas told him. “Yours are dirty.”
“But I don’t—” Chip’s voice was muffled as Lucas pulled the pajama shirt over his head. Next door, Bo spoke in quiet reassurance to Teddy. “I’m sure he’s not really mad. He just looked mad. I’ll bet he won’t even ’member by tomorrow.”
