Last Chance Family

by Hope Ramsay

  “Is that your professional judgment?”

  “That’s a slight problem, because I’m not certain that I’ve maintained my professional distance. But I strongly feel that Rainbow belongs with Mike, not you. And it has nothing to do with the cat. It’s become clear to me that Rainbow has strongly bonded with Mike. She trusts him. He’s provided stability that she desperately needs. She communicates through art, and most of her drawings are of him.”

  “So what should I do?” Tim asked. “Mike’s bailed. He’s got some kind of deal in Vegas that he’s running off to. I guess money is more important to him than the child.”

  “Do you really believe that’s true?”

  He turned his back on the window and looked deep into Andrea’s eyes. Did he believe it?

  He thought about the pain in Mike’s voice this morning. He thought about the look on Mike’s face that day Frances Polk had gotten him arrested. He thought about the way Rainbow looked yesterday in church.

  “No,” he whispered the word. “No. I think he’s scared.”

  “I think so, too.”

  “What should I do?”

  “I think you need to change Mike’s mind. He’s got so many options. He doesn’t have to give up his career to be a dad. He doesn’t have to move to Vegas to be a gambler. He needs to see that he’s got a safety net here. He’s not used to having one. You know?”

  Rainbow stirred and cried out the way any hurt child might. Tim rushed to her bedside and stroked her head. “Hey, Rainbow. You’re okay.”

  Tears filled her eyes. The same silent tears she’d been crying on and off for weeks.

  “Uncle Mike?” It was a plea and a demand and a need.

  Tim took her hand and whispered to her. “I’ll get him for you, sweetheart. Just hang in there. I’ll get him for you, I promise.”

  He looked up at the clock. It was two-thirty already. The appointment with Eugene was for two.

  God help him, he might be too late.

  CHAPTER

  28

  Eugene Hanks’s office occupied a suite of rooms above the florist shop in a century-old brick building at the corner of Palmetto Avenue and Chancellor Street. The lawyer’s offices smelled heavily of roses. And the old-fashioned furniture suggested the antebellum South.

  The receptionist ushered Mike into a conference room with a mahogany table and formal chairs that had to be Chippendale originals. The tabletop was so shiny and pristine Mike was afraid of leaving fingerprints.

  He sat alone for about five minutes before Eugene strolled into the conference room wearing a gray worsted suit and red power tie—a definite improvement in his appearance over last Sunday’s madras shorts. He greeted Mike warmly then sat in a facing chair. He unfolded a pair of metal reading glasses, popped them on the end of his nose, and opened a manila file folder that had been labeled with the name Taggart on the tab.

  The lawyer read silently for a moment. Then he looked up at Mike, over the rims of his glasses. “My wife called me this morning. She told me about Rainbow’s accident. I’m surprised you kept this appointment.”

  Mike’s sour stomach churned. “Rainbow is going to be fine, but she has some medical issues, and I need to return to Vegas. I left a message with your secretary this morning. I need a medical power of attorney right away. I thought we could handle the permanent custody issues by email and snail mail. You said on the phone that transferring custody from me to Tim is relatively straightforward, since we’re both Rainbow’s uncles.”

  The lawyer nodded. “I got your message. I’ve drawn up the medical power of attorney.” He pulled a single sheet of paper from the file and slid it across the table. “Do you have a pen?” he asked.

  Mike had thrown on a pair of jeans and a golf shirt this morning right after the ambulance had taken Rainbow off to the hospital. He had been doing well to remember his wallet and driver’s license.

  “No.”

  Eugene nodded, reached into his suit jacket, and pulled out one of those big black pens that looked like an old fountain pen. He unscrewed the top, and it turned out to actually be a fountain pen.

  “I’m an old-fashioned guy.” He handed Mike the pen, but the look in his blue eyes seemed hard and unforgiving. Was Eugene judging him?

  Mike suddenly had this deep desire to explain himself. But he pressed his lips together. He had no words that could actually describe his emotions at that moment. He didn’t even know what he was feeling.

  He’d killed the last few hours aimlessly driving around trying to control his heartburn and get his act together. He was no closer to understanding himself now than he had been in that angry moment when he stalked out of the hospital.

  He took the pen and started to read the document. Before he got very far, Eugene spoke again. “I hear the Methodist Altar Guild has started a prayer vigil for Rainbow.”

  Mike looked up. “A prayer vigil?”

  Eugene nodded. “That’s the way it always is in this town. Someone gets hurt or sick and you can count on the ladies organizing prayer teams. Someone dies, the ladies make casseroles and pray some more. Someone needs help and the prayers are said at the same time helping hands are extended.”

  Eugene chuckled and leaned back in his chair. “Yessir, we take our prayer seriously down here. We’re kind of old-fashioned that way. In fact, us old-timers still socialize face to face at the country club, although I understand the Episcopal Ladies Auxiliary now has a Facebook page. I’m not sure that’s progress, if you want to know the truth.”

  He finished talking and glanced down at the paper as if to say Mike needed to get on with it.

  So Mike resumed his reading. He had made it to the second paragraph when Eugene interrupted again. “So my wife told me you’re about to sign some big deal with a casino.”

  “Your wife?” Mike didn’t think he’d ever met Eugene’s wife.

  The lawyer chuckled again. “Don’t worry, son, you can’t keep anything quiet in this town. I guess someone from the Altar Guild heard it from Reverend Lake and passed it on to Ruby or Lillian or Lessie or someone. Or maybe Millie Polk heard it from Charlene. Either way, the news jumped from the Methodists to the Episcopalians. I’m sure the Baptists know now, too.” He looked at the paper lying between them.

  Mike said nothing. He went back to reading the document. It designated Tim as the responsible party for making all medical decisions affecting Rainbow. It would take effect as soon as Mike signed it and Eugene witnessed it.

  “So how much did they offer you?” Eugene asked as Mike poised the pen above the signature line.

  He looked up. “What?”

  “How much money did they offer you? It must have been a lot, huh?”

  Mike was about to tell Eugene to mind his own business when the guy leaned forward, looking over the top of his glasses.

  “I’m just curious,” Eugene said. “I know it’s not really my business. But you see, Thelma and I don’t have children. Not that we didn’t try, mind you. But I wonder what I would do in your situation.”

  “I’m not walking away from Rainbow because of the money. Just get that straight. And you can tell the gossips in town that, too.”

  “No? Oh, I’m sorry. Everyone in town seems to think that’s the reason. I’m glad to hear it, because I knew in my heart you weren’t that kind of guy.”

  “What kind of guy?”

  “The kind who puts money above love. You do love Rainbow, don’t you?”

  “Of course I do.” The words came so easy. He loved that kid. He didn’t exactly know how it had happened, but he would sacrifice anything for her. And signing this paper was the proof of that.

  He put the pen on the paper. Ink flowed out of the pen’s nib as the paper absorbed it, but he didn’t sign his name. He sat there breathing hard.

  “You know, Mike,” Eugene said, “I’ve had a lot of experience dealing with families in crisis. And folks almost always come in here thinking the world is black and white. And I’ve always felt l
ike it’s my job to make them see the colors.”

  Mike lifted the pen off the page. “Colors?”

  Eugene nodded. “Yep. Colors. In addition to the shades of gray.” He leaned back again and took off his glasses. He made a great show of folding them before he spoke again. “So, just out of curiosity. If you love Rainbow, why are you in such a hurry to leave her?”

  “Because this is a better place than Vegas.”

  The lawyer nodded. “I agree. But you don’t have to live in Vegas, do you?”

  Before he tried to explain, Eugene pressed on. “Oh, I understand that you’d have to take business trips to play poker in Vegas and Atlantic City and maybe even overseas. But it seems to me that you’ve got yourself a built-in support network right here in town. I mean there must be at least a dozen members of the Altar Guild willing to help you. And I’m sure Reverend Lake wouldn’t mind sharing custody or babysitting when you have to travel. And it’s clear Charlene Polk would help you if you ever got into a jam. I only say that because she gave you the key to her parents’ river house. I won’t mention anything about how you carried her home the other night when she’d had too much to drink. That was very chivalrous of you, by the way.”

  Mike put the pen down on the table. “Eugene, all of that might be true. But the thing is, I’m no good for Rainbow. It’s my fault she got hurt today. And I’m sort of responsible for what happened to her mother. She doesn’t need someone like me.”

  Eugene nodded. “All right, I do understand that. But what if Rainbow disagrees with you?”

  “What?”

  “Just asking. What if Rainbow loves you and thinks she needs you? Are you ready to walk out on that? I think that’s the essential question.” He pushed up from the table. “Take your time. I’ll be down the hall in my office when you’re ready to have the document witnessed.”

  Eugene turned and strolled out of the conference room.

  Mike stared at the paper in front of him. All his past experiences screamed at him to pick up the damn pen and sign.

  And just like that, he was the eighteen-year-old-boy who had reached his limit. The boy who had known what Richard was doing to Angie. The boy who couldn’t get Mom to stop it. The boy who tried to take the big man on and got his ass kicked. He knew why Angie dressed her daughter like a boy and went out of her way to make her look unattractive. He knew why she had fallen to drugs to numb the pain.

  And he would always be partially responsible for that. He should sign this paper and get the hell out of here.

  But he couldn’t do it. He came face-to-face with the kid he’d been. The kid trying to solve a problem that was beyond his abilities. He should have had loving parents, like Colin Lake, who had protected his son. And barring that, there should have been someone like Eugene Hanks or an Altar Guild, or a village of people—like so many of the people he’d met these last few weeks in Last Chance.

  But this situation was different, wasn’t it? That’s what Eugene Hanks and his country lawyer manner was trying to tell him.

  No one here in Last Chance wanted to hurt him. Most of the people here, with the possible exception of Charlene’s mother, wanted to help. They had meddled in his life. And now they were praying for Rainbow and him.

  Why?

  These people believed he deserved their prayers.

  That thought blew him away even though he wasn’t much of a believer. It didn’t matter if he believed—just knowing that believers were willing to put their faith on the line for him was sort of a miracle.

  And then he suddenly remembered something the senile Miriam Randall had told him weeks ago. Words she’d tossed out as if they didn’t mean anything. And yet from the mouth of a crazy old lady had come wisdom.

  Love wasn’t a long shot. Here in Last Chance, South Carolina, it was one of the safest bets he could make.

  CHAPTER

  29

  Charlene finished up the sandwich Angel had insisted she eat. It was almost three in the afternoon. She was demoralized, hoarse, and footsore. And to make matters worse, the sky above Last Chance was darkening with big, black clouds. The rumble of thunder vibrated the front windows of the Kountry Kitchen.

  “I’ve got to go,” she said, pushing up from the table. “I need to find that cat.”

  “In the rain?” Angel asked.

  “If need be.”

  “I think you should put up some lost cat posters or something. But before that you should go to the hospital.”

  “We’ve already been through that. Tigger is the best medicine I could give Rainbow. I want to be able to tell her the cat is safe and sound. Now, I have to go.”

  She threw a ten-dollar bill on the table and headed out the door.

  Angel didn’t follow her. Either he’d given up trying to tell her what she should do with her life or he’d decided not to get wet. He was probably waiting for the deluge. Knowing Angel, once the skies opened up, he’d come find her in his Jeep.

  She looked up at the sky. Big, gray thunderheads were amassing overhead, and the humidity had reached critical mass.

  She should turn around and go back. But she was a fool. She’d already been up and down Julia Street five times—as far west as the old abandoned Smith house and east all the way to Allenberg Pike. For all she knew, the cat might be trying to get back to Chicago.

  Sometimes animals did that kind of thing.

  But she didn’t want to admit failure. So she blew out a sigh and headed south on Palmetto Avenue toward Julia Street one more time. She got as far as Chancellor Street before the raindrops started to fall.

  Lightning flashed while she waited for the light. The thunder came quickly, and the rain increased. No time for turning back now. Traffic was light, and she dashed across Palmetto against the light. She ducked under the florist shop’s awning just as the skies opened up in earnest.

  She was about to call Angel and let him know she planned to take refuge down the block at Dot’s Spot when she heard the meow.

  She looked up through the dark, gray rain just in time to see a drowned-looking cat on the other side of Palmetto Avenue. She squinted at the poor, drenched animal.

  Its ears were flat to its head, and its coat was almost saturated. But the curl at the end of the cat’s tail was unmistakable. It was Tigger.

  “Stay right there,” Charlene said, putting out her hand in an utterly useless gesture. She left the shelter of the awning. Rain beat down on her and soaked her T-shirt in a matter of seconds. She glanced at the light. It was about to change again, going green for the traffic on Palmetto. But the road that had been deserted a moment ago now seemed crowded with traffic.

  A truck was heading north, and a car with its right turn indicator flashing waited at the stop light on Chancellor Street. “Stay put, Tigger,” she pleaded.

  She took two steps out into the street and thought about running across the road before the light changed.

  But the truck was coming on fast. And then Tigger jumped out into the traffic on Palmetto Avenue just as the light changed. The driver of the truck slammed on his brakes. It fishtailed and slid sideways over the slick pavement. The pickup crossed the centerline and careened headlong toward Charlene.

  She lost sight of the cat and stood there a moment, paralyzed by the oncoming vehicle as time seemed to slow down. And then her instinct for survival kicked in. She hopped back onto the curb, just as the truck slammed into the car making a right turn on the red light.

  “No,” she wailed, her voice drowned out by the thunder overhead and the groan of bending metal.

  Tigger was gone. Tigger was gone. What the hell was she going to do?

  Tears filled her eyes, and she forced herself to take a step back into the road. The Mazda sedan had been totaled, but the driver seemed to be okay. The truck seemed remarkably unscathed, probably because it was a big, honking Dodge Ram.

  She took another step out into the street. The Mazda was leaking fuel or oil or something.

  “Tigger?” she
called.

  And then, miraculously, she heard the meow.

  She took several more steps out into the street, calling the cat’s name, sure that the animal had been seriously hurt. But she found the cat, wet and trembling, hunkered down under the back end of the Dodge.

  “Come on, girl, come to me,” she said as she got down on her knees. There wasn’t any blood. The cat didn’t seem hurt, but it was hard to tell because thick clouds had turned the afternoon dark. The rain continued to fall as she tried to coax the cat from under the truck. Tigger was soaked right through to the skin.

  “Is that your cat?” The Mazda’s driver had gotten out of her car and managed to find an umbrella. Charlene didn’t recognize the woman, but the look on her face said everything. She shook her finger in Charlene’s face. “Someone should take that cat away from you. Look at what your carelessness has caused.” The woman turned toward the truck driver, who turned out to be Roy Burdett. “Would have served her right if you’d just run the cat over.”

  Roy ignored the woman and hunkered down beside Charlene. “Is that the cat that belongs to the little girl who got run over this morning?” he asked.

  It was always a little amazing how everyone in town seemed to know the latest news, especially if it involved someone getting hurt. “Yeah. I’ve been looking for her all day. Bless you for putting on the brakes.”

  Roy got down on his belly and scooped the cat up in his big hands. “Here you go, Dr. Polk.” He put the cat in Charlene’s arms and then continued. “And mind yourself when you get up. It looks like the car I hit is leaking some oil.”

  “Thanks, Roy.” Charlene snuggled Tigger against her soaking wet chest. The animal was shaking like a leaf. But it didn’t look as if she’d been injured. She was panicky and wanted to get down, out of Charlene’s arms. But there was no way in hell she was letting that cat go. She stood up, trying vainly to protect it from the rain.

  “What the hell are you doing?”

  Mike. What was he doing here? She turned around, and there he stood on the sidewalk right by the door to Eugene Hanks’s law firm. Well, that explained his presence here. He’d come to sign Rainbow over to Reverend Lake.