Charlie visibly deflated, sinking down to put his arms around Wolfie’s neck. “But I don’t want to move.”
How quickly he accepted the truth of what she said, and her heart broke for this child who’d seen too much change and loss. She didn’t know much about Charlie’s background, but she knew his mom wasn’t reliable enough to raise him. That had to hurt him right at the core.
And it meant he shouldn’t get overly close to Lacey, because she was just going to be another loss. “You and your dad are going to be a forever family,” she said, resisting the urge to hug him. “But that’s not going to happen here.” She forced herself to add, “It’s not going to happen with me.”
He looked at her with wide, sad eyes and she felt like she’d kicked a puppy. And even if her words had been for Charlie’s own good, she hated that she was hurting him.
“Later,” he said, then turned and straightened his shoulders. “Come on, Wolfie.” And then both dog and boy ran up the stairs.
Tears rose in Lacey’s eyes, and one spilled over and ran down her cheek. She wanted to call him back, to hug him and tell him that yes, they’d still be close, and yes, they could do things together in the future.
But that would just prolong the pain. Vito needed someone who could give him and Charlie a family, and he would find someone.
And that someone wouldn’t be her.
Automatically, for comfort, she felt for her necklace. But she wasn’t wearing it. After kissing Vito, she’d decided that it was time to remove it. Time to stop focusing on Gerry, and start focusing on life ahead.
She’d been wrong.
She turned off the soup, for which she had no appetite, and trudged up the stairs. Went into her room, opened her old jewelry box and pulled the chain back out.
She’d thought she was going to make new memories with Vito and Charlie, but she was going to have to stick with the old memories. Of Gerry and the child she’d lost. Memories that didn’t seem like nearly enough to build a life on now that she’d tasted what love and family could mean at Vito’s side.
But Vito wanted a big family. He’d be wonderful with a big family, and she wasn’t going to deny him that.
The chain and ring settling around her neck felt heavy in a way they never had before.
Suddenly bereft of energy, she closed her bedroom door, pulled the shades and lay down in the semidarkness, too tired and miserable even to pray.
* * *
Saturday afternoon, Vito arrived at the church food distribution late and out of sorts.
Lacey had been scheduled to volunteer, too, he was sure of it; she’d come out onto the porch, car keys in hand.
But when she’d realized that he and Charlie were planning to go, she’d turned abruptly and gone back inside, shutting her door with a decisive click.
Not only that, but Charlie was on his worst behavior. After Lacey’s defection he’d refused to go and, when Vito had insisted, he’d let loose with a tantrum that had surely roused the neighborhood. Now he wore a sneer better befitting a teenage delinquent than an eight-year-old boy.
“Hey, Charlie’s here!” Angelica waved from where she and Troy were sorting out boxes of doughnuts and pastries. “C’mon, the Kennel Kids scored the best place on the line. We get to give out the desserts, and eat whatever’s left over!”
Charlie scowled, but he walked down to the end of the line where several other boys from the group stood joking and roughhousing. Troy and Angelica seemed to have them under control, though, and Xavier greeted Charlie enthusiastically.
Relieved, Vito scouted around for a role that didn’t involve a lot of chitchat. He wasn’t in the mood today. As the line of food bank patrons entered the church’s fellowship hall and picked up boxes to fill, Vito started carrying crates of produce from the loading dock at the back of the building to resupply those on the front lines.
He tried to distract himself from his gloomy thoughts by focusing on the scent of sun-ripened tomatoes and bundles of green onions, but it didn’t work. He kept going back to Lacey’s pale, strained face, to the definitive click of her door closing.
Had their new connectedness been an illusion? Had she had second thoughts about pursuing a relationship with someone who had disabilities and a challenging child to raise?
Was there some way she could have found out the truth about Charlie?
But they’d walked together this morning, and she’d been perfectly fine, seeming interested in him, his job, their conversation.
“Hey, Vito!” The father of the migrant family who was renting Nonna’s house—was his name Vasquez?—took the empty crate Vito handed him and started filling it with bundles of kale. “Thanks for working today.”
“Thank you.” Vito tried for a good humor he didn’t feel. “I’m impressed that you’re helping, as busy as you must be with the new baby.”
“The bambino has not arrived yet, and my wife, she is very uncomfortable.” The man worked deftly as he spoke, lining up the bundles for maximum space in the box. “She cannot work now, so I will have to join the food line this month. But at least I can help others, too.”
“Good plan.” Vito took the crate from Mr. Vasquez and reminded himself that his weren’t the worst problems in the world. Some families struggled to scrape together enough food to eat.
He walked back toward the line, focusing on the friendly chatter between helpers and recipients. Interesting that the line between the two sometimes blurred, as with Mr. Vasquez.
He’d just put the crate down when a highly irate voice sounded behind him. “Vito! I need to talk to you!”
It was Susan Hinton, and she tugged him over toward a quiet corner of the fellowship hall. “What did you say to Lacey?”
“What do you mean?”
Susan’s hands were on her hips. “She’s been doing so well, but when I stopped by the guesthouse to pick her up for volunteering, she looked awful. Said she couldn’t come, and when I asked her if she was sick, if she needed anything, she said no and went back in her room. She never misses.”
Vito lifted his hands, palms up. “I could ask you the same question. She’s backed off from me, just today, and I don’t know why.”
Susan’s eyes narrowed. “Since when? What went on?”
“I have no idea.”
She actually smacked him on the arm. “Come on. Don’t be a typical guy. What did you say to her?”
“I don’t know.” He leaned against a stack of boxes, trying to recreate the scene of their walk this morning in his mind. “I was talking about my new job. And not just because I was going on and on about myself. She wanted to know. She was fine one minute, and then boom, she lit out of there like I’d insulted her best friend.”
“What, exactly, did you say?” Susan leaned back, crossing her arms over her chest. “And I’m not just being nosy. Lacey’s had a lot happen to her, and she went through a pretty bad depression. I’d hate to see her sink back into that.”
“Me, too.” He frowned, thinking. “I was talking about working with the kids, and she said she didn’t know how I could handle working with that many. I told her I love kids, want to have a passel of them myself someday, and it was about then that she seemed to back off. Was that...do you think I somehow offended her?”
Susan threw her hands up and snorted with disgust. “Vito!” Several people turned to look at them, and she tugged him closer and lowered her voice. “Look, I don’t know that it’s my place to tell you this, but Lacey can’t have kids.”
That hit him like a blow to deflect, news that had to be wrong. “But...she got pregnant with Gerry, right?”
She looked from one side to the other, making sure they weren’t overheard. “When she miscarried, there was some damage. She’s infertile now, and that’s been really, really hard for her to deal with.”
Pain sliced through him just as if it were he, himself, who couldn’t have kids. Lacey would be such a great mom. Sometimes, life just wasn’t fair.
“And so when you said...” Susan trailed off.
Understanding broke through. “Did she back off because I said I wanted a lot of kids?”
“I don’t know. She’s the type who’d sacrifice her own desires so other people would get what they wanted.”
“Wait a minute, I’m confused. What are her own desires?”
“She really likes you, Vito, if you haven’t wrecked it. Talk to her. That is, unless her infertility means you aren’t interested in her, like some ancient king who only likes women so he can get a son.”
Vito lifted his hands, palms up. “Whoa. That’s not me. Not at all.” His mind was reeling, but this was something he could maybe fix. “Look, I have to go. Can you tell them... Do you think they can handle the rest without...”
“Go.” Susan actually shoved him toward the door. “The line’s short today and it’s almost done.”
“Thanks. Thanks, Susan. Let me get Charlie, and I’m outta here.”
Despite the sad news he’d learned about Lacey, hope was rising in him. If she cared for him so much that she’d sacrifice her own desires so he could have kids... But didn’t she see that what he wanted was her? Kids came into families in all kinds of ways. Just look at Charlie.
The boy wasn’t with the rest of the Kennel Kids. “He said he needed to talk to you,” Angelica said. “Didn’t he come over?”
“No...” Vito turned and scanned the room. “I’ll find him. Thanks.”
Alongside his excitement about possibly working things out with Lacey, self-blame pushed at him. He’d been paying so much attention to Susan’s story that he’d forgotten to keep an eye on Charlie.
Finally, he thought to talk to the other Kennel Kids. “He said he was outta here, going home,” one of the younger ones finally volunteered.
“Thanks.” Vito blew out a breath, quickly left the church and walked the three blocks to the guesthouse at record speed. He’d told Charlie he had to stay and help the whole time. What did this new wave of defiance mean?
Nonna was at the front gate, headed out for lunch with Lou Ann Miller. “Did you see Charlie come in?” Vito asked.
“No, but I’ve been getting ready. I wouldn’t have heard him if he went right upstairs. Is anything wrong?”
“Everything’s fine. He’s just in trouble.”
“Don’t be too hard on him, dear.” Nonna patted Vito’s arm, and then the two women headed down the sidewalk.
He trotted up the stairs. Noticed the door to Lacey’s room was still closed. Was she in there?
He really wanted to talk to her, but he had to deal with Charlie’s disobedience first. He pounded on the door to Charlie’s room, and when there was no answer, flung it open.
The lecture he’d been about to give died on his lips.
The room was empty. Not just empty of people, but empty of stuff. Charlie’s stuff.
He opened the closet door. There was a hamper of dirty clothes, but the clean ones were gone. As was Charlie’s suitcase.
His heart pounding, he ran out onto the landing. “Charlie! Charlie!”
No answer, but Lacey’s door opened. “What’s wrong?”
He looked from window to window, searching the yard on both sides of the guesthouse, but they were quiet, empty.
“Vito? What’s going on?”
“Have you seen Charlie?”
“Not since you guys left for the church. Where is he?”
“That,” Vito said grimly, “is the million-dollar question. I think he’s run away.”
Chapter Fourteen
Vito continued searching even as he explained the situation to Lacey, trying to stay calm.
“I just can’t believe he’d run away. He’s so happy here, and with you.” Lacey walked into Charlie’s room. She opened the closet door, and then squatted to look under the bed—all places Vito had already checked.
Vito strode into his adjoining room. He flung open the closet door and checked it top to bottom. “I never thought of him running, either, but he’s not here. And his suitcase is gone.” Quickly and methodically, he searched the rest of his room. News stories of all the bad things that could happen to kids played through his head, one after another.
A thought struck him and he went back to the window, lifted the screen and leaned out. He gave a whistle, and Wolfie trotted over to that side of the yard, panting, looking up expectantly.
“It’s okay, boy,” he said, and shut the window. Surely Charlie wouldn’t have left without his beloved dog.
When he looked back into the room, Lacey was at Charlie’s little desk, rifling through papers and magazines and empty potato chip bags.
“I’d better call Dion.” He had his phone out to punch in the police chief’s number when Lacey cried out softly.
“Look at this. Is this his handwriting?”
Vito took the torn piece of notebook paper from her and scanned it quickly, his heart sinking with every word he read.
I thot I cud have a mom and dad. I need a mom. Take care of Wofie.
And he’d signed it, “Love, Charlie.”
Vito’s heart seemed to stop in his chest.
“What does it mean?” Lacey clutched her arms around herself. “‘I need a mom.’ And who did he think would be his mom? Was it...was it me?”
“Maybe.” He caught Lacey’s eye, held it. “Believe me when I say I didn’t try to plant that idea. But right now I’m more worried about where he’s headed.”
“Could he have gone to his mom?”
“That’s what I’m afraid of.” He turned toward the door. “I can’t even imagine how upset he was, to leave without Wolfie.”
“But you said she’s an addict...”
“She is, and she isn’t very selective about her boyfriends. I’ve got to find him.” He headed down the stairs.
She followed behind. “Where does she live? Where has he been meeting her?”
“He’s been meeting her at a center in Raystown. But she actually lives in Barnsdale. Way too far to walk, and he knows that.”
Lacey grabbed his arm, stopping him. “There’s a bus that goes to Barnsdale. We were talking one day, Charlie and Nonna and me, and we looked over the bus route together. He was sounding out the words, and when he came to Barnsdale, he said that’s where he used to live.”
Vito groaned. “I have a feeling that’s exactly what he did. Is the bus stop still at the front of Cramer’s Drugstore?”
She nodded. “Let’s go. Maybe we can catch him before he gets the bus. I don’t even know the schedule anymore, but the bus can’t run very often.”
They each grabbed phones, wallets and keys and rushed out to Vito’s car. As they climbed in, Wolfie howled his distress at being left behind.
“Let’s drive slow and watch. He could be headed back home. I doubt a bus driver would even take a kid as young as Charlie.”
“I don’t know. He can be pretty smart about figuring out ways to do things and making up stories.”
They were at the drugstore in minutes, and Lacey got out of the car and rushed in before Vito even had a chance to park. By the time he got inside, seconds later, she was in heated conversation with a teenage clerk.
“Why didn’t anyone stop him?” she was lamenting. “A little boy, alone?”
“Kids eight and over can ride unaccompanied.” The young woman shrugged. “He had the right paperwork, looked like. The driver always checks.”
Vito’s heart sank. Charlie was perfectly capable of talking an adult into filling out a form for him. “How long ago did the bus leave?”
The teenager looked at the wall beh
ind her, taking what seemed like an extremely long time to skim over a schedule. “Must’ve been about...an hour ago?”
He and Lacey looked at each other. “Let’s go,” she said.
As they reached the truck, the ramifications of what might be in front of them rushed into Vito’s mind. Krystal, Lacey, Charlie. All together. “Lace...you might not want to go along. Someone should stay back at the guesthouse, in case he comes back.”
“I’ll call Lou Ann on the way and ask her and Nonna to go back.”
“It’s not safe—”
“Charlie’s not safe. And you need backup.”
He pulled out of the parking lot and headed toward Barnsdale. “I need backup I don’t have to worry about. You can only come if you stay in the truck and be ready to call the police if needed. That’s it, Lacey. I don’t want you tangling with Krystal and her boyfriends, or whoever else is crashing at her place.”
“Fine.”
As they drove in silence, Vito’s mind hopscotched from topic to topic. How would Charlie get from the bus stop to his house on the poorer side of town? Should he explain the whole situation about Charlie and Krystal and Gerry so that Lacey could be prepared? Why had Charlie run away, really?
He heard a small sound from the seat beside him. When he glanced over, he saw Lacey brushing her forefinger under her eye. “What’s wrong?”
“I think I know why Charlie ran away,” she said with a hitch in her voice. “I think it’s my fault.”
“How could it be your fault?” He kept his eyes on the rural road before him, pushing the speed limit.
“Because I told him we couldn’t keep doing things together.” She fumbled in her purse, found a tissue and blew her nose. “I told him we couldn’t be a family.”
Whoa. “How did you get into that conversation? When?”
“Just this morning.” She paused, took a breath. “He came in from basketball, talking about all the things we three were going to do together, and I thought...I thought he’d better not expect that. So I just...told him it wasn’t happening.”
The Soldier's Secret Child Page 15
