For the Children

by Tara Taylor Quinn

  “His coach told me that Abraham perked up a lot when he made the team, that basketball could have been a lifesaver,” Valerie told her.

  “His probation officer said he’d been dealing with episodes at home a little better,” Linda agreed. “Handling them without becoming part of them.”

  Valerie knew Linda well. Respected her. “Do you think that excelling at a sport might’ve been enough to help Abraham find the solid ground he needed?”

  “Sure,” the woman said. “Anything’s possible.” And then, “But you know, Judge, he’d probably have found it with the Mortons, too, if that coach hadn’t kept coming by to see him.”

  So Chandler had been visiting Abraham. And he’d done so repeatedly. She’d suspected as much. And was still disappointed to have her suspicion confirmed. The man was as determined and know-it-all as ever.

  “There are no easy answers, are there?”

  “No, Judge, there sure aren’t. Abraham might’ve made it quicker if he’d been able to stay home and play ball. But he might’ve ended up dead, too.”

  “I could have found a way to keep him on that team, even if it meant getting someone to carpool him back to Menlo Ranch.”

  “You’d have had a hell of a time finding someone willing to do all that driving.”

  Valerie didn’t think so. She knew one man who would have jumped at the chance.

  KIRK WAS at the cemetery Friday afternoon, rearranging the baby-pink roses that had been delivered, when his cell phone rang. Recognizing Troy’s number, he answered immediately.

  “Sorry, pal.” Troy’s voice was deader than most of the people around him. “Tests came back negative.”

  “What do you mean, negative?” he asked, turning his back so his gruff tone was away from his daughter’s grave. What was Troy talking about?

  “I mean you are not the father of Susan’s baby.”

  You are not the father of Susan’s baby.

  The words reverberated through Kirk after he hung up the phone. Sliding down to his usual seat against the headstone, he took the news calmly. His heart wasn’t beating any faster. His breathing was normal. There was no anger raging through him. No veins popping in his neck.

  You are not the father of Susan’s baby.

  He wasn’t really surprised. He’d wanted to believe in second chances, but all along, he’d known better. Since watching his baby girl lose her battle with life, while he sat helplessly, unable to do a damn thing to save her, he’d known he was not what fathers were made of. He’d been born without whatever instinct was given to a man that enabled him to be a good father.

  He wasn’t hero material.

  “You knew your old man was a fool all along, didn’t you, sweetheart?” he asked softly, pulling at some grass between his feet. “What would I have done with a second chance, anyway? Except fail? The only talents your father has lie in business, little girl. He can succeed there all day long. But don’t ever get to hoping he’ll succeed at life, you hear me?” His tone grew louder with the intensity of his message to her. “Because you’ll just be setting yourself up for disappointment if you do, and I can’t bear to disappoint you again, Alicia.”

  Though he stayed and talked to her long after darkness had fallen and the ground had grown cold, Alicia never said a word.

  KIRK WASN’T REALLY surprised to see Valerie’s car outside his house that evening. She knew Susan, could easily get his address if she didn’t have it already, and would also have heard that Susan’s son was not his.

  He just wasn’t sure if she was there to commiserate. Or to gloat. He couldn’t imagine either.

  “Where have you been?” she asked, almost like an accusatory wife, as he stopped the Vette in the driveway and climbed out.

  “The cemetary,” he said before he’d registered the urgency in her tone.

  His senses were dulled but not dead. Yet. “What is it?” he asked, hurrying over to her. If one of the twins was sick or in trouble…

  He’d do whatever it took to wipe that stricken expression from her beautiful face.

  “Abraham Billings attempted suicide today. He’s in a hospital on the west side. He’s conscious, but won’t talk to anyone but you.”

  Kirk insisted on driving, and on the way to the hospital Valerie gave him the details. By the time he reached the boy’s room, he was himself again. Strong. Determined.

  “IT’S NOT THAT the Mortons are so bad,” Abraham told Kirk, talking to him like a desperate kid confiding in a trusted adult. Valerie couldn’t help recognizing the positive effect Kirk had on the boy. The trust that had developed between them. Before he saw Kirk, his face had been sullen. Drawn.

  It was the only kind of look she’d ever seen in the past. With the exception of the few minutes in her courtroom while they were removing him from his mother.

  Carla Billings had been called, and had made a quick trip over. They’d only let her see him for an hour. She’d left eventually, but had adamantly announced she’d be back.

  Mrs. Morton had been by the boy’s side the entire day, having left only to go down to the cafeteria for a late dinner after Valerie and Kirk arrived.

  “It’s just that, you know, I miss what I had. You. The team. Every time I see you, I think about the other kids getting you every day at school and I just about go crazy wanting that, too.”

  He was nothing more than a sensitive little boy looking for love. And acceptance. And a place to belong.

  Kirk wasn’t saying much all of a sudden and, looking at his face, Valerie suspected she knew why. He’d just realized he was partially to blame for Abraham’s current state. Right before her eyes, he shut down. The energy that pulsated through him with such tangible force slid away; the sparkle of determination in his eyes grew dim.

  He didn’t give up on the boy, though, telling Valerie more about himself, about his motivations and priorities, in those few minutes than any amount of evidence could have done.

  “Let’s make a deal, shall we?” he asked the boy, leaning forward as though the two of them were alone.

  “What kind of deal?” Today’s experience appeared to have humbled the boy.

  “I’ll see to it that you play basketball on a competitive team if you cooperate with your new living conditions. You’re going to be in a treatment center for a little while, probably not long, but when you return to the Mortons you’re to give them a real chance.”

  The boy’s eyes shadowed. “They might not want me back.”

  “Oh, they do,” Mrs. Morton said from the doorway, her plump form bringing cheer into the room.

  Kirk stood to give the foster mother the seat next to Abraham. “What do you say, sport?”

  The boy’s big brown eyes, peering so trustingly up at Kirk, almost broke Valerie’s heart. “I miss my mom. I need to be home with her.”

  Valerie stepped forward then, hoping she wasn’t making a mistake. “Your mom needs some time to herself, Abraham,” she said softly. “Time in which she can learn to be the mom to you that she wants to be. This isn’t forever, you know. Just long enough to make things right and then you can go home again….”

  The boy was frowning, clearly not trusting her.

  “It’s the best shot you’re going to get, son,” Kirk said sternly.

  “I’ll think about it,” Abraham said, clearly not convinced. “But not unless I get to see my mom.”

  “We’ll talk about this in court, Abraham,” Valerie said. “I’ll set a hearing for next week.”

  It was the best she could do.

  KIRK DIDN’T SAY a word once they left the hospital. Watching for any expression that might cross his face—but didn’t—Valerie started to worry about him in earnest. She tried repeatedly to engage him in conversation, but by the time he pulled up at her car parked outside his house, he still hadn’t said more than five words.

  He expected her to get out before he drove into his garage. She couldn’t.

  “Just go,” he said after a long uncomfortable minut
e.

  “You know,” she said slowly, quietly, “my husband and I had such incredible dreams when we graduated from law school. We were going to make a real difference, change the world one step at a time. It never occurred to me that we wouldn’t. So when the dreams started to disappear, I didn’t even see it. I was taking myself so seriously, I’d completely lost perspective. I could no longer see beyond the daily tasks, the routine. And Thomas—after a while Thomas couldn’t see beyond the power. And the winning.”

  She had no idea where the words were coming from, no conscious plan; she just knew she couldn’t leave him like this.

  So she talked.

  “Every day I go to work and tell myself it’s just a job. I tell myself I do my best and no one expects any more of me than that. But it’s a huge amount of pressure, you know? Holding the lives of young kids in my hands day after day. Sometimes I wake up in the night in a cold sweat, afraid I might not get one right.”

  She sat straight in the seat, both feet on the floor, gazing out the windshield to the darkness beyond.

  “You start to play games with yourself to live with that fear, to pretend it isn’t there.” She was putting into words feelings to which she’d never given form. “Somewhere along the way, I started to see everything in black and white. I stopped looking back. Refused to second-guess myself. My decisions.”

  He wasn’t moving. He might not even be listening. But neither was he kicking her out.

  “My husband said something to me years ago that I’ve never forgotten. Something I never understood until the past couple of days. He talked about a very thin line of gray. Describing it as something very few people found—the perfect middle between the spirit of the law and the letter of the law.”

  She wasn’t sure where she was going with this. Or even if it mattered.

  “Go on.”

  “In the end, he’d been all about the spirit of the law, but it was his own interpretation of that spirit. While I, in contrast, or maybe even in reaction, had grabbed on to the letter of the law with both hands. Then he got in that accident, killed a precious little girl, and I’ve been afraid to let go of it ever since.”

  Her words fell starkly into the intimate interior of the sports car. Kirk’s block had only two streetlights, leaving them in almost total darkness.

  “I have to trust my judgment,” she told him, knowing now that was true. “Hundreds of kids each year, not to mention all the people in this state, count on my judgment. But I also have to trust my heart. Somehow, through all of this, I quit listening to my heart.”

  A DISTANT COMPASSION was all he could muster. Kirk listened, not at all surprised she’d found her way. People like Valerie Simms, honorable and naturally ethical people like her, always did.

  “Sounds like you’ve discovered some peace,” he finally spoke.

  “I think I have.” She sounded surprised.

  “I’m glad.” And he was. Honestly glad.

  She turned in her seat and he wished he’d kept his mouth shut, made her uncomfortable enough to leave. “Don’t you see, Kirk,” she said, “you’ve been in both places. Where he was. And where I was. Just think how great you’ll be when you bring the two together and—”

  Holding up his hand, he silenced her. “You’re wasting your time,” he said unequivocally. He couldn’t sit there and listen to her blowing hope into a life that had used up its share. “You’re not the only one who’s done a bit of self-discovery. I know who I am.”

  “And who are you?” Her soft words almost hurt.

  “Kirk Chandler,” he said quickly, before he forgot, even for a second. “The man who lost a daughter I never knew, who spends more time with her now that she’s dead than he ever did when she was alive. The man who lost a wife he didn’t love enough, who put his own father out of the business he’d built, store by store. The man who, even now, is living a double life—a crossing guard by day, but a businessman at night.”

  “You’re working at night?”

  His affirmation was one slow nod.

  “Where?”

  “Chandler Acquisitions is back in business.” Sort of. “Not on as big a scale, certainly, but that might only be a matter of time.”

  “The same kind of business?” She sounded like she already knew the answer to that. But there was no way she could.

  “Not entirely,” he told her, compelled, even now, to sell himself as a decent human being. “I’m working with mergers instead of takeovers.”

  “And how are you liking that?”

  She was hiding her disapproval well. “These new ventures take longer because rather than just going in and grabbing control, it’s become a matter of listening. I try to understand the needs of both parties, so I can find them some common ground. It’s a more complicated procedure. But I like it.”

  “Sounds as if you like it a lot.”

  Yeah, that was exactly what he was afraid of.

  “Maybe you just need to look a little deeper into yourself, Chandler,” she said, reverting to the sassy tone she’d used when she’d first known him. “Look with your heart.”

  Did she really think he hadn’t already done that? A dozen times in the past twenty-four hours. “Yeah,” he said sarcastically. “And what do you see? You meet Susan, a broken woman whom I’ve just hurt further. And next to her, notice Abraham, a little boy whose difficult life has just been made harder by my certainty that I knew what was best for him.”

  “You’re right, in a sense,” she said, and he wondered if that had been her goal. To get him to admit his faults so she could twist the knife a little more. It was no less than he deserved.

  “But not the way you think. It’s obvious now that Abraham’s problems would most likely have been solved more expediently if I’d kept him in basketball.”

  And that was supposed to make up for the bottle of pills the boy had taken because of Kirk’s insistence on dangling in front of him everything he could no longer have?

  “And believe it or not, you did Susan a favor, too.”

  Now this had to be good. A stretch even for Valerie.

  “Since the day she found out she was pregnant with Colton, she’d been afraid he was yours. Had you not forced the issue, she would’ve carried that fear in her heart forever, never knowing for sure if the man she’d named on the birth certificate, the man she loved with all her heart, was really her son’s father. She also felt guilty for having slept with you and not telling Alexander. As it turned out, he’d suspected all along. Seems he stopped by her house the night you were there.”

  Kirk didn’t know what to make of that. So he made nothing.

  “There are still, and probably always will be, shadows in her life, but she’s happier today than I’ve ever known her.”

  They were the first words Valerie had said that night that eased the ache in Kirk Chandler’s soul.

  VALERIE TALKED for another half hour. And nothing she said made the light go back on in Kirk’s eyes.

  “You talk about your intense determination as if it’s something dirty,” she told him, frustration creeping in. “But look at what it’s done for good.”

  His gaze was blank, turned toward the windshield and the emptiness outside. “You saved my son’s life, Kirk, because you were determined enough to stand up to me. And to him.”

  He nodded. And that was all.

  She tried a while longer, but eventually realized she wasn’t getting anywhere.

  “You know,” she said, climbing out of his car, “that determination you’re so afraid of just might kill any chance you have at a happy life, after all.” She told him the black-and-white truth, but she told him straight from the heart. “Because you’re using it to punish yourself.” She sighed in frustration. “You succeed at whatever you decide to do—and you’re succeeding at this.”

  ON HIS WAY TO SCHOOL the following Monday morning, Kirk ran through the reasons he was planning to give Steve McDonald for quitting his job. He was going in early enough so the
principal would have time to call in a backup guard for Kirk’s street corner. There were always custodians eager for the chance to pick up a few extra bucks.

  Then Kirk would go home and make arrangements to rent some office space for the paperwork that was now engulfing two rooms in his house. If it wasn’t the life he wanted, it was the life he was cut out for. A life he was good at.

  Out of habit, he pulled the Vette up to his usual spot in the parking lot across the street from his corner. At that early hour, the street was deserted, but he could easily picture the kids who would soon be crossing there. They’d have all kinds of things to tell him; they always did. And they’d be wondering why he wasn’t there.

  He didn’t like that. Deserting them without warning. It was something Alicia would have expected of him when she was alive. But not, he hoped, what his angel child believed he’d do.

  Grabbing the stop sign from the trunk of his car, Kirk donned his vest and took up his post. After lunch was as good a time to quit as any. Steve would be in his office as soon as the noon meal was over. Kirk had met him there many times for a quick meal of their own. Usually something disgusting like leftover cafeteria pizza.

  That was one thing he was not going to miss.

  The kids were in rare form that morning, rowdier than usual for a Monday morning. Amanda Sue Bates, a young girl who’d barely spoken a word at the beginning of the year, ran up to the corner when her mother dropped her off. “Guess what, Kirk?”

  “What?” He couldn’t help grinning at her. He figured the huge smile she was wearing must be hurting her face.

  “I get to play Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz! They called me over the weekend!”

  “That’s great, Amanda,” he said, nodding at a couple of other kids as they joined them at the corner. “Congratulations! Didn’t I tell you you’d be good at acting?”

  “You said if I wanted the part badly enough I’d get it,” she reminded him.