EDGE OF REASON

by Barker, Freya

  Barnes is stopped and shows his credentials.

  “Where’s the baby? I’ve got his father here,” he says to the officer, who sticks his head in the window to look me over.

  “You sure about that?” he asks Barnes, and I have to keep myself from reaching over and dragging him into the vehicle by his throat.

  To his credit, the officer blanches at the glare Barnes sends him and quickly points out the ambulance on the other side of the roadblock. I’m out of the SUV before we’ve come to a complete stop and head straight for the closed doors in the back.

  I hear crying from inside and release the breath I was holding before opening the door. I barely hear Barnes explaining who I am behind me. I only have eyes for River, who’s giving his lungs a workout while an EMT tries to examine him.

  The moment he spots me, his little arms reach.

  “U-unk!” the poor kid hiccups.

  I ignore the protesting EMT and scoop River off the stretcher. Poor kid immediately snuggles his head under my chin and pops his thumb in his mouth.

  “Hey, Little Man,” I whisper, feeling his small body tremble against me. “I’ve got you, kid.”

  The EMT still wants to check him out, but within fifteen minutes Barnes is ushering us into the back of his SUV.

  “Already called ahead. Luna says she’ll let Jaimie know we’re on our way,” he says, climbing in behind the wheel. “Let’s go home.”

  I’m suddenly wiped. I have a shitload of questions, but no energy to ask them. With River falling asleep on my chest, I drop my head back and take in the first full breath in many hours before closing my eyes.

  Jaimie

  “Little Mama.”

  For a minute I think I’m dreaming again when I hear Trunk’s voice. I’ve been drifting in and out of sleep for the past two hours, since finding out he’s bringing my baby home.

  I realize it’s real this time when I feel a soft brush of familiar downy hair against my cheek and breathe in a hint of baby shampoo. I turn my head and open my eyes to River’s angelic sleeping face beside me in the hospital bed.

  “Thank you,” I whisper, my voice thick with emotion as I search out Trunk’s soulful eyes.

  “My pleasure, baby,” he whispers back, his hand coming up to stroke my face with his fingers.

  “Is he okay?”

  “He’s fine, just tired. He slept the whole drive here.”

  My eyes well up as the horror of the past day suddenly threatens to overwhelm me. “I’ve been so scared.”

  “I know. I’m so sorry I wasn’t here,” he mumbles, looking a little overwhelmed himself as he takes a seat next to the bed.

  I reach over my son and take Trunk’s hand resting on the mattress, squeezing his fingers. “Don’t be. I would’ve gone mad if I didn’t believe with everything in me you would bring him home.”

  He doesn’t say anything, but leans over to kiss me ever so gently on the lips, before putting his head down on the other side of River’s. We stare at each other over his blond hair, expressing all we can without the need for words.

  I’m not sure how long we remain like that when the door opens, and a young nurse walks in who seems startled at the tableau we make.

  “Visiting hours are over, sir,” she announces when Trunk lifts his head and turns to her.

  “Good to know,” he rumbles. “But we’re not going anywhere.”

  “I’m afraid those are hospital rules,” she says primly.

  “If they go, I’ll be leaving too,” I fire at her, meaning every word.

  “But, ma’am, the doctor says you need to stay overn—”

  “Either we stay together or we leave together. Your choice,” Trunk challenges the young woman, entwining his fingers with mine.

  On a huff she leaves, and Trunk turns back to me.

  “I don’t want you to go anywhere,” I tell him.

  “Ever?” he teases, his eyes lighting up with a spark of humor.

  “You know what I mean.”

  His eyes soften. “Yeah. Feel the same way, James.”

  The door swings open again, but instead of the nurse I was expecting, it’s Ezrah followed by Mom. Both of them freeze in the doorway.

  “You’re here,” Ezrah beams at Trunk. “Where’s the baby at?”

  “Right here, kiddo,” he rumbles, moving his body out of the way so he can see. A soft gasp has me look at Mom, who is losing it after being the rock holding me up.

  Trunk lets go of my hand as he gets up and walks up to her, wrapping his arm around her. Overcome, she does a face plant in his chest.

  “Happy tears, Ezrah,” I quickly explain, as he looks a little worried at Mom’s unfamiliar display of emotion. “These are all happy tears.”

  A few minutes later, Mom is sitting in the chair beside my bed, stroking her grandson’s hair, when Ezrah turns to Trunk.

  “What about my nana?”

  “She’s okay, buddy. So’s your little sister,” he says in a gentle voice. “My friend Ouray is looking out for them.”

  With a sob, the boy buries his face in Trunk’s stomach and wraps his skinny arms around his hips.

  _______________

  “This is unreal,” I mutter, walking into my house on Trunk’s arm.

  He tried lifting me out of his sister’s SUV, but I reminded him there wasn’t anything wrong with my legs. When that didn’t stop him, I mentioned it would probably hurt more to be carried than to walk on my own two feet. That did the trick.

  Evan had come to pick us up in Tahlula’s Lexus, which easily fit us all.

  Good thinking, because last night even Ezrah refused to leave, so everyone ended up staying the night. Mom and Ezrah sleeping on the couches in the waiting room across the hall, and Trunk dozing off and on, sitting in the bedside chair, with his head on the bed.

  I don’t think anyone had a particularly restful night, but it didn’t seem to matter.

  Tahlula and Evan had popped in last night for a quick, tearful visit. They didn’t stay long, but offered to come back in the morning to drive us home.

  I guess Tahlula decided to wait for us at home, because she’s in my kitchen making coffee.

  “Crazy, right?” she says, smiling wide. “I walked in with my bouquet and one from Joan, but the place was already overrun with them.”

  The house is filled with flowers on almost every available surface.

  I let Trunk lead me to the couch, where he takes off my coat and the boots Evan brought over this morning. “Who are they from?” I ask, sitting down.

  “Ollie, would be my wild guess,” Evan says, walking over to kiss his wife.

  “The sunflowers over there are hers, yeah,” Tahlula points at a nice clay pot I don’t recognize with a substantial number of the bright blooms. “It’s the only one with a card.”

  “You read her cards?” Trunk grumbles.

  “Only one, Trunk, pay attention,” T corrects him.

  “One too many,” he fires back. “Always so nosy.”

  “Bite me, Titus.”

  “Shee-it, woman.” He shakes his head in mock disgust, while the rest of us chuckle at their bickering.

  Ezrah looks on like he sees water burning.

  “I’m just gonna give this boy a quick bath and change,” Mom pipes up, as she heads for the stairs with River. “Wanna come give me a hand, Ezrah?”

  He shrugs like he’s barely interested but when she starts going up; he’s right on her heels.

  I find myself staring at the spot where I hit the floor. Not quite twenty-four hours ago. It could’ve ended much differently, if the bullet had just been a fraction to either side, I probably wouldn’t be sitting here. If Ezrah hadn’t hidden, he may not have been alive to tell us who it was we were looking for. If anything had happened to my baby…

  “Stop.” Trunk’s lips brush my hairline as he sits down beside me and gently tucks me to him. “It’s over, Little Mama. Done. I don’t want you to waste another second thinking about what might’a bee
n. You’re safe, you’re home.”

  I lay my head against his shoulder and close my eyes, letting his words filter through. I can hear the boys’ giggles accompanied by splashing from upstairs, and smile.

  “Ready for some coffee?”

  “Hell, yeah.” My eyes pop open and I take the steaming mug T is offering. “Thanks.” I take a sip before lifting my face to Trunk, kissing the underside of his jaw. “And thank you, honey.”

  “For what?”

  “The flowers. Clever asking Ollie. She’s got good taste.”

  His eyes drop down to mine. “Smartass,” he mumbles pressing a kiss to my lips. “And you’re welcome.”

  I glance over when I hear a sniffle and catch Tahlula looking near tears.

  “What’s wrong with you?”

  She waves her hand. “Never mind.”

  “Hormones,” Evan says calmly. “She’s all over the place.”

  “I’m not!” T sits up straight and glares at her husband. “Don’t you dare blame my hormones. It’s my brother’s fault.”

  “The fuck did I do now?” Trunk immediately reacts.

  “You bought flowers. That’s so not like you—it’s so…sweet.”

  “Lawd,” her brother moans, rolling his eyes to the ceiling.

  Evan tries to hide his chuckle, but it’s infectious and I’m soon snickering along with him.

  Trunk

  “I’ll get them set up in one of the vacant apartments.”

  The house is quiet. Everyone turned in early, but I wasn’t tired yet, even though I’ve barely had any sleep in the past forty-eight hours.

  Ouray’s text came in a few minutes ago and rather than texting back I called.

  “I’ll cover them,” I immediately respond.

  “We’ll worry about that later. I’m sure there’ll be enough shit to shovel through in the next couple of days. Let’s first get this family reunited tomorrow. I’ll bring them over in the morning.”

  “Be prepared for waterworks,” I warn him. “Doesn’t take much to get those going.”

  “Seems to be goin’ around,” Ouray teases.

  “Whatever.”

  He chuckles at my expense. “Bustin’ your balls, brother. Been there myself. Around ten thirty good for ya?”

  “Yeah.”

  “The sister is cute as a button, but wait ’til you get a load of Ezrah’s nana.”

  “Whatta you mean?”

  “You’ll see.”

  After I hang up, I lock all the doors, turn off the lights, and head upstairs. Instead of going straight for the master, I first stop in to check on Ezrah, who is sleeping on his stomach, his head buried underneath his pillow. Don’t know how the kid can breathe like that. I carefully lift it and watch his relaxed face.

  Thrilled as I am he’s going to have his family back tomorrow, I’m a little sad too. I’ve come to care about the kid and would’ve happily offered him a home. But he already has one—or will—and he has a sister to look out for and a nana to take care of them.

  Next I look in on River, who has kicked off his blankets and just starts fussing. A quick touch to his diaper finds him soaking wet. Secretly glad for the excuse to pick him up, I take him to the dressing table and carefully lay him down. His long lashes flutter against his cheeks a few times before his blue eyes look up at me.

  “Unk.”

  “Yeah, kid. Let’s get you dry so you can go back to sleep, all right?”

  The normally chatty toddler quietly observes me while I quickly change him. When I lift him up and sit down on the rocker, he snuggles against my chest. I listen to him mumble half asleep, his little fingers restlessly moving against my neck until he nods off.

  I carefully put him back in his crib, cover him with the blanket, and turn to leave, finding Jaimie leaning against the doorway.

  “Asleep?”

  “Yeah.”

  I step up to her, brushing the tangled hair from her sleepy face.

  “I love you, Titus Maximus Rae.”

  “Love you too, Jaimie Lynn Belcamp.”

  She takes my hand and leads me to the bedroom, where she lets go and gingerly slides under the covers. I strip in seconds and get in with her, rolling on my side to face her, with my hand on her belly. I would love nothing more than to slide inside her welcoming body, but watching her smile softly as her eyes get heavy with sleep is a close second.

  I can wait until she’s better.

  We’ve got nothing but time.

  CHAPTER 30

  Jaimie

  “I CAN’T WAIT for warm weather.”

  Mom looks up from her book and slides her reading glasses down her nose, peering at me over the frame.

  “What is up with you? You’ve been moping around all morning. Are you hurting?”

  I sneak a peek at the boys, playing on the floor. Ezrah is being very patient; trying to build something with blocks and River keeps knocking it down, giggling every time the blocks go tumbling. The older boy simply starts all over again.

  I’m going to miss him.

  Trunk told me about his nana and baby sister coming this morning. I’m so happy for Ezrah—he’ll be over the moon—but I’m sad at the same time. He hasn’t been with us that long, but he thrived. No longer the scared, suspicious little boy he was when he got here.

  I admit part of me had hoped maybe he could stay here. I’m finding I like having a houseful.

  “Not really, I’m just getting a little stir-crazy.”

  “Well,” Mom pushes the glasses back up her nose, “give yourself the week the doctor said to take it easy. After that you can get back to your regular speed.”

  She returns her attention to her book and I once again am staring out the window, fiddling with a tassel on the throw Trunk covered me with.

  He’s upstairs, making some phone calls. He told me about the five boys who were found at the house in Moab. He’s trying to get some psychological follow-up set up for them before they slip through the cracks and become scary adults. I don’t blame him. The idea of more kids like Matt out there—manipulative and violent underneath that innocent veneer—is absolutely terrifying.

  I can’t even wrap my head around what little he’s told me. The worst of it is, my baby was on his way to that place. The thought of my sweet boy—who adores Trunk and sees no differences—being brainwashed into hating him, makes me absolutely sick. The fact his father may have had a hand in that chills me to the bone.

  Kids aren’t born hating, they’re taught to.

  The sound of footfalls has me twist my head back to see Trunk coming down the stairs, his eyes fixed on me.

  “Ouray’s here,” he announces, going straight for the door.

  Guess he’s been keeping an eye out too.

  Sure enough, Ouray’s big truck pulls into the driveway just as Trunk slips outside.

  “Who dat?” Ezrah asks, his eyes sharp on me.

  I realize I’m giving it away by intently staring out the window, so I force myself to look at the boy.

  “Trunk’s friend.”

  Luckily, River distracts him by knocking over his careful construction, his giggles turning into a full belly laugh when Ezrah pretends to be upset.

  When I hear the door open behind me, I keep my eyes on Ezrah, watching him closely. Surprise is the first emotion that registers, but then his face crumples as he jumps to his feet.

  “Nana!”

  I stand up, turn, and just catch the boy throwing himself into the arms of a woman. A strikingly beautiful woman, who couldn’t be much older than me. Forty tops.

  Wait. This is Nana?

  This whole time I’d imagined some plump old lady in an apron. My automatic mental image when I think of a grandmother. It occurs to me how unrealistic that is, given my mother—who is in her sixties—doesn’t even fit that picture.

  River starts crying at all the commotion and Mom picks him up. I notice her eyes are as wet as mine.

  The woman goes down on her knees and pulls a
little girl who was hiding behind her into her embrace as well.

  I’m so focused on the scene before me, I don’t notice Trunk until I feel his hand sliding around my stomach, pulling me back against his solid front.

  “You good, Little Mama?” he whispers in my hair.

  Unable to form words I simply nod.

  “Well, where’s our manners?” Mom suddenly says. “Trunk, honey, can you take River? I think this calls for a fresh pot of coffee.”

  While Mom bustles off to the kitchen, Ouray steps forward and makes the introductions. Nana’s name is Lisa and her eyes are understandably suspicious when I shake her hand.

  “I’m so glad you’re here,” I tell her. “Ezrah’s been so worried.”

  She looks over my shoulder, taking in Trunk with my son on his arm, before she answers in a surprisingly soft voice. “Thank you for looking after him.”

  “Come on in,” Mom calls out from behind me. “Have a seat. Here, I’ll take your coat.” She almost pulls the woman’s coat off her and gives her a little shove into the living room. In true Mom-fashion, she normalizes a slightly awkward atmosphere. “Ouray, you sit too. I’ll bring out the coffee.”

  We’ve all found seats—Lisa sitting in the club chair, both kids clinging to her side, while Ouray appropriated a kitchen stool, and Trunk is sitting right beside me, River on his lap—when Mom walks in carrying a large tray.

  “Look,” she says, grabbing the plate of cookies and showing them to Lisa. “Your grandson and I baked last week. I had to look up the recipe, but he insisted we make his nana’s snowballs. We made enough cookies to last us ’til Christmas, didn’t we, Ezrah?”

  Mom busies herself serving everyone coffee and waves off any attempts at helping her. I notice Ezrah’s precious little sister following her every move with blatant curiosity. Lisa’s eyes keep drifting to Trunk and me.

  “Lisa has agreed to help us out at the club while Momma recovers,” Ouray breaks the silence.

  “How is Momma?” I ask, mortified when I realize I should’ve asked sooner.

  “Improving, but at her age it’s taken its toll. I suspect it’ll be a while before she’s back on her feet.”

  “Yuma?” Trunk inquires.

  “Will be released tomorrow or the day after. Looks like we’ll have an entire sickbay at the clubhouse. Good thing we were able to get Mason Brothers Construction to fit us in on short notice. They should be done with the clubhouse before the end of the week.”