by Nolan Thomas
The wound to his heart never healed.
Nerve damage from the wound had paralyzed most of the right side of his face. For months afterward, Billy had spent hours in front of the mirror willing his face to form a smile. But it wouldn’t cooperate. Very slowly, over time, feeling and movement returned.
But to this day his smile was a little crooked due to nerve damage, yet hardly noticeable when his eyes joined in.
“I went to college after the Navy, focused on my studies, and became a journalist. I caught a break when the Chicago Post hired me.”
“Do you think I could be a journalist?”
“Riley, you’re an impressive young lady. You can be whatever you want to be. But it won’t be easy. You’ll have to study and work very hard.”
“Really? Anything? Do you think I could even be an interior decorator someday?”
Billy smiled and nodded. “Anything.”
Moved by Riley’s vibrancy and resilience, despite her circumstances, Billy knew she had to be the face of his story.
“Mind if I take your picture?” Billy pulled out his phone. “Say cheese.”
“Cheeeez!”
Neither had any idea he had just taken the most important picture of Riley’s life.
4
RIVER FALLS, ILLINOIS 25 years earlier
BILLY’S LEFT EYE SWELLED SHUT from his dad’s powerful backhand—his reward for trying to stop his dad from screaming at his mother. Rod Daniels was a fun-loving, charismatic insurance salesman everyone loved to be around. But when the after-work audience left his VFW drinking hole, and he went home in his daily alcoholic haze, Rod Daniels transformed into a frightening figure, hell-bent on belittling and hurting the people closest to him.
Billy ran out the apartment door and rushed down the flight of rickety stairs, his legs moving so quickly his feet barely touched the steps. He held onto the banister to steady himself as he performed this half-run, half-slide maneuver down the steps. He stormed through the back door onto the stoop of the duplex, crying and swearing under his breath, jaws tightly clenched.
“Why don’t you do us all a favor, you son of a bitch? Eat shit and die!” Billy muttered, pacing across the stoop, swinging his small arms in a punching motion for emphasis. After a few minutes of pacing, air-punching, and mumble-swearing, he collapsed onto the top step of the stoop and gave in to the tears.
Is that paper being crinkled? Billy thought. He looked in the direction of the noise and jolted a few inches off the step when he saw a small figure sitting next to him. That girl Maeve from the apartment below his sat next to him, dressed in her pajamas. An old blanket full of fuzz balls and snags draped across her shoulders and arms as she expertly unwrapped a Snickers. Billy later learned that lots of candy was one of the perks of someone’s mother having different boyfriends all the time. Maeve carefully broke the candy bar in half. She held the two pieces of candy next to each other and lifted them towards the street light so she could examine her work. The pieces were pretty even.
Billy thought, Not bad work for a girl.
Without saying a word, Maeve, who wouldn’t earn the nickname Casey for three more years, handed Billy one of the pieces. Billy wiped the snot from his nose with his shirt sleeve and accepted the gift.
“Thanks,” he whispered. “I’m Billy Daniels.”
“I know,” she whispered back. “I’m Maeve Callahan.”
“I know.”
Maeve and Billy sat there for two more hours without saying another word. Slowly the sounds of chaos coming from their apartments tapered off to occasional bursts, and eventually all was quiet.
Maeve stood, gathered up her ponderous blanket-world, and shuffled off to her apartment.
“See ya, Billy,” she yawned, poking her arm out from the blanket and waving at him.
Billy smiled. “See ya.”
WASHINGTON, DC current day
Billy braced himself and rang the doorbell, not sure how she would react to seeing him. He heard rustling on the other side of the door, and was certain Casey saw him through the peep hole. Just as he convinced himself she would never answer the door, it swung open.
“You’re such a shit,” she laughed as she affectionately tousled his wavy-brown hair. “Why didn’t you call me?”
Several years had passed since that promised phone call.
Billy froze. Casey Callahan always got to him. She stood there in her bare feet, wearing lightweight gray sweatpants and a white T-shirt that stated in small block letters “A diamond is a girl’s best friend.” Underneath the words was the outline of a baseball diamond. On the left sleeve was a small embroidered Chicago Cubs logo.
Not a classic beauty, but pretty in that Irish-American sort of way, with fair skin and light freckling, shoulder-length auburn hair, smiling blue eyes, and a not-so-perfect nose. It all came together with a killer smile she aimed right at him.
Before he could say anything she reached up, wrapped her arms around him, and pulled him into a welcoming embrace.
“Get in here,” she said, pulling Billy through the doorway and leading him into her kitchen, then gently pushing him into a chair.
“So what brings you to my doorstep?”
“I’m in DC working on a new story. There’s no way I could be this close and not see you. I wasn’t sure you’d even open the door for me.”
“Why on earth would you think that?”
“Oh, let me think. Perhaps it’s that I haven’t returned a phone call in a few years.”
Casey laughed—a warm, friendly laugh. “Let’s not forget your brusque responses to any email I sent you as well.”
“Look, I’m so sorry. You know I’m not good at that kind of stuff.”
“Not good?” Casey teased. “How about terrible? Better yet, you’re a word-man. How about awful or appalling? Oh . . . oh, I know. Atrocious?”
These childhood best friends laughed just like the old days, as if no time had passed at all.
As she looked across her kitchen table into Billy’s stunning green eyes, still tempered with a hint of sadness, Casey saw that nine-year-old boy who had given her the nickname Casey because she could swing a baseball bat with the best of them. All the kids jumped on the nickname. That day Maeve Elizabeth became Casey, and fell deeply and permanently in love with Billy. She had a new name she could face the world with. A name that suited her. Tough yet friendly, strong yet fun, and most importantly—incredibly cool.
Billy smiled. “Okay, okay. I get it. You’ve made your point. I’m a complete shithead.”
“There you go. I knew a word-man like you would come up with the perfect description. Lucky for you I have a soft spot in my heart for shitheads!”
Casey reached across the table and squeezed Billy’s hand. “It’s wonderful to see you.”
She brought Billy up to date on her work as the Legislative Director for Sam Hennessey, senior US Senator from their home state of Illinois. Casey loved her work researching, crafting, and shepherding legislation.
Billy talked about his time in the military and his advancing journalism career. He told Casey about his current research, and about this amazing ten-year-old girl, Riley, he had just interviewed.
The two sat at Casey’s kitchen table, drinking, talking, and laughing well past midnight. Casey insisted Billy stay in her extra bedroom for the night so their conversation could continue with breakfast together in the morning.
5
PHONES RANG. CHILDREN CRIED. PEOPLE rushed across the cramped, maze-like office in every direction. Voices buzzed and permeated the air. Stacks of administrative paperwork buried desks, their dull putty color barely visible.
When Regina became a social worker, she imagined the job would bring her much respect. Grateful clients would regularly send her flowers. Newspapers would be filled with accolades about her service to the community. But like everything else in her life, reality fell short of her expectations. She expected to have a date to prom. Although Regina willingly gave her
virginity to get that date, he took the cheerleading captain.
She expected her time would come in college. It didn’t.
Transforming herself into St. Regina the Social Worker, she thought she would change the world through her wisdom and benevolence. She never got canonized.
What she did get was a job in the Washington, DC, Department of Children and Families Services. For the last thirty years she worked her ass off for all the ingrates. No flowers. No accolades. Only one lousy promotion in all that time and a workload that just kept getting bigger and bigger, along with her waistline.
The desk clerk barked, “Regina, I got one for you.”
Regina peeked above piles of paperwork on her desk and saw a frightened young girl.
“Sit there, honey, while I talk to this nice lady.” The clerk pointed to a metal chair with a thinly padded plastic seat next to Regina’s desk.
The girl dropped her chin towards her chest and sat motionless, except for the slight shivering she tried hard to hide.
Regina whined, “Isn’t there anyone else?”
The clerk shrugged. “Boss said you were up.”
“Great,” Regina said. Her sloped shoulders drooped even further.
The clerk handed Regina a thin manila file. “Not much to report on this one. Cops found her in an alley this morning with her mother. The mother died from an overdose.” Pointing to the girl, the clerk continued, “A doctor checked this one out. She’s fine physically.”
The girl didn’t move. It seemed as if she wasn’t breathing. Even her shivering had stopped.
“It appears the kid hasn’t had any breaks in her short life. Her father was arrested eight years ago for possession, and didn’t adjust well to prison life. Got himself stabbed to death his first week inside. We can’t find records of any other relatives. Seems the mom was a druggie-loner with no friends.”
Regina looked through the minimal paperwork as the clerk spoke. Excitement crawled up her spine. She may have snagged another one.
“Thanks.” She flashed the clerk her yellow-smile. “I’ll take it from here.”
The clerk turned and patted the child on her head. “Don’t worry about anything. This nice lady will fix you right up.”
The girl never looked up, never followed the clerk with her eyes as she listened to her walk away.
Regina rolled her chair directly in front of the girl. She took her forefinger and placed it under the girl’s chin and pulled, just a little harder than necessary, to make the child look at her. She yellow-smiled in the girl’s direction.
“What’s your name, sweetie?”
“Riley,” she answered in a barely audible voice. “Riley Sinclair.” She paused for a few moments and then cautiously asked, “Am I in trouble?”
“No sweetie, you’re not in any trouble.”
Regina rolled her chair back to her desk and started writing some notes. She slid open the middle desk drawer and extracted a cherry Tootsie Roll Pop. She handed it to Riley without looking at her. “Here, sweetie.”
“Thank you.”
Regina opened the lower left drawer of her desk, pulled out a clunky, out-of-style purse, and rummaged through it until she found a small, wrinkled piece of paper. Picking up her phone she entered the number from the paper.
After three rings a crisp voice on the other end of the line said, “Yes.”
Regina cupped her hand around the receiver so no one would overhear her conversation. “It’s me. I have something that meets all your specifications.”
“Excellent. How soon can you deliver?”
6
SUNSHINE GLEAMED THROUGH THE WINDOWS of Casey’s condominium. Billy had barely noticed her place the night before. Now, as he sat at the table again, he saw how much this place was like Casey herself. Her home was warm and inviting. Upscale or trendy buildings didn’t appeal to her. She lived in a practical building with architectural character along with easy access to the Metro system, shopping, and the Dirksen Senate Office Building.
Her unit was small, but open, giving it a sense of being more spacious than it actually was. Windows went from floor to ceiling at the far end of the kitchen; the opposite end opened to the living room. Hardwood floors, along with vanilla-colored walls, gave the place a soft, warm glow. Simple yet comfortable furnishings filled her home. There wasn’t a hint of the world she grew up in.
Casey looked up from the morning paper, catching Billy’s silhouette outlined by the sunshine. She’d always known he was good looking—hell, every girl in high school knew Billy was good looking. But now she saw the man. Compassionate, intelligent, and vulnerable. A man she had liked since she was six, and deeply loved since she was nine.
Billy looked up and saw that great smile of hers. It affected you the same way laughter did. You couldn’t be around laughter without laughing yourself. No one encountered a Casey Callahan smile without smiling back. He did. A Billy Daniels smile wasn’t too shabby either.
“Riley really got to me yesterday. This can’t be just any story, Casey. I don’t know if I can do it justice.”
“Why on earth do you think that?”
“This story needs to generate action and change lives. There’s a lot of journalists out there that are better than me. Maybe I should talk to my boss about getting someone else on this.”
“Someone else? From where I stand, you could bring a level of understanding and compassion to this story your fellow journalists might not. You know firsthand what a tough childhood can do.”
“I don’t know. Empathizing is one thing. Writing to spark change is something else. I’m not sure I’ve got what it takes. Riley deserves better.”
“You’re forgetting that you bring a lot more to the table. You’re a writer and a fighter. I know you, Billy Daniels. You didn’t become a SEAL by quitting. No matter how tough it got, you never rang that bell. You can tell their stories, and keep fighting until real change happens.”
Casey knew Billy. She understood that even though strong and intelligent as he was, he still struggled as the little boy who never felt good enough for anyone to care about him. The little boy whose parents never showed him an ounce of interest except to knock the shit out of him when they couldn’t cope with their own miserable lives.
Casey said, “I’ve followed your career—read every article you’ve ever written.”
He looked at her, astonished. Billy wanted to say something, but the lump in his throat made it impossible.
Casey saw tears form in his eyes. She understood exactly what he was feeling. “That’s right, Billy, I’ve read every word. And this much I know for sure—you may not be able to pull your head out of your ass sometimes, but you can sure as hell write. I’m so proud of you.”
Billy pushed his chair back, went over to Casey, and pulled her into his arms, practically suffocating her in a bear hug. It was hard to tell if they were laughing or crying. Billy gave her a big kiss on the forehead and released her. She almost fell over, but laughingly regained her balance.
“You’re the best, Casey!”
“It’s about time you finally figured that out.”
Casey suddenly stopped laughing.
“I’ve got a great idea, Billy. Why don’t you stay here with me and write your story in DC?”
“Whoa, Casey, that’s a great offer, but I can’t do that.”
“And exactly why not?”
“I can’t impose on you like that.”
“You’re not imposing. I’m inviting you. There’s no reason for you to stay at a hotel. We get so few opportunities to spend time with each other. I would love it if you stayed here.”
“You make it sound so easy. What about disrupting your life?”
“What disruption? I’m at the office at least ten hours a day, and it’s not unusual for me to put in some weekend time as well. You’d have a lot of quiet time to yourself. You’ve already test-driven my extra bedroom. I’ve got Wi-Fi. There’s even an office over there.”
She pointed to French doors close to the entryway. Looking through the glass doors, Billy saw a small office with windows wrapping around the corner of the room. Across from the desk sat a comfortable-looking leather recliner with a floor lamp next to it. It had a cozy look to it, like a place you could spend hours in writing, reading, and relaxing.
“I’ve got to admit, you make it sound pretty damn good.”
He’d forgotten how much he enjoyed being in her company. He’d often missed her without ever completely realizing it.
“Then it’s settled!”
“Not so fast, Casey. Are you sure this won’t be an imposition? I mean what about your social life?”
“My social life?” she teased. “There’s no need to get sarcastic.”
Billy smiled. “You know what I mean. I don’t want to get in the way and have you end up regretting you ever invited me.”
“Okay then, how about some house rules? We clean up our own messes, and either of us can pull the plug at any time—no hurt feelings.” Casey extended her hand like an executive ready to finalize a negotiation. “Deal?”
Pulling back his hand at the last minute, Billy asked, “What’s the rent?”
“No rent. Just keep the fridge stocked with whatever you want to eat. Meals will be every man for himself.”
Billy shook Casey’s hand. “Deal.”
7
A DROP OF RED-TINGED SALIVA ran down the corner of Riley’s chin as the Tootsie Pop rested in her mouth. Regina rolled her chair in front of Riley again and leaned in.
“My job is to find nice homes for girls and boys like you, when their mommies and daddies are dead.”
Riley pulled the Tootsie Pop from her mouth and looked at Regina. Her large blue eyes welled with tears. She knew what drugs did to people. Riley knew what death meant. She knew she would never see her mother again. Riley had worried every time her mother left, and wondered if it would be the last time she saw her.