“I’m Native American, Pueblo specifically, so of course I believe in spirit guides. That’s what he is, you know.”
“Spirit guide? Hmm, I hadn’t considered that. Ghost absolutely, but spirit guide? That actually makes me feel…more in tune with him.”
“He was instrumental in helping Brent find my son, our son,” she corrected. “Long story.”
“This I have to hear. Take a seat.”
“My ex abducted Luke when he was six months old. I didn’t get him back until a cop in Wyoming confronted him in this out of the way café. He’d gone all woodsy—my ex, not the cop. Anyway, by that time, Luke was nearly three years old. Between Scott and Brent’s detective work, we were able to hone in on that area, stay focused in the right direction in order to bring my baby back home to me.” River looked up from her glass. “On numerous occasions Scott’s even helped save lives here in town.”
“How?”
River thought of the story Cord Bennett had told her. “Like saving people from suicide, stuff like jamming guns so they won’t fire. Other times he’s warned people away from dangerous situations right before something terrible happened, like sniper fire. That happened to Brent. Just a few months ago it was a lightning strike. Don’t believe me? Just ask Ryder and Julianne how they barely escaped from getting struck by lightning. And he woke Nick Harris up in time to prevent Kent Springer from setting fire to Promise Cove.”
“See? That’s why I feel safer having him guarding the cottage.”
River narrowed her eyes in a frown, considered that info. “Is there someone after you?”
“I have a crazy ex, too.”
“Ah, ever wonder why there are so many out there?”
“Crazy seems to have become the new norm. What did you want to ask me?”
“The Chumash Museum opens in a month. I’m looking for an assistant, someone who might be familiar with cataloging items for display. A little bird told me that you have experience working in an art gallery.”
Isabella’s mouth dropped open. “How could anyone besides Logan possibly know that?”
“Small towns,” River said by way of explanation, wiggling her eyebrows up and down. “If you’re thinking he broke a confidence, I didn’t hear it from Logan, although I can’t reveal my source. So don’t ask.”
“It isn’t that. I’m just amazed at the flow of information—or rather disinformation. Some so outlandish I don’t know where they get their ideas. One day last August, Myrtle Pettibone confronted me at movie night certain that I’d once danced for the Bolshoi Ballet but was forced to leave because I was involved in a sex scandal.”
River cracked up laughing. “A sex scandal? And you’ve been keeping that to yourself? Unfair to hold back details like that. Okay, it was the hubby who mentioned the art gallery connection. But if it comes up in conversation, you twisted my arm to get that out of me. I’m not sure exactly how Brent heard. So is it true?”
“No, I never danced for the Bolshoi,” Isabella admitted with a grin. “And yes, I do have gallery experience.”
“Perfect. Then what about coming to work for the Museum? I promise I’m not a slave driver, not much of one anyway.”
To add another enticement, River tossed out the salary. “I know it’s not what they pay in Paris but…”
“I’ll take it,” Isabella blurted out. “And for the record my gallery experience comes from my college days where I spearheaded a private art collection. Not sure what that has to do with Native American exhibits but I’m willing to expand my horizons if you are.”
“As long as you’re familiar with the boring side of data entry and the importance of description in a computer database, I’m willing to stretch your hands-on experience.”
“Then we have a deal. When do I start?”
“Is tomorrow too soon?”
“Tomorrow’s perfect.”
At ten o’clock recess, Jonah filed out to the playground with the rest of his class. As soon as he reached the yard, he did what he always did. He made a mad dash for the slide, getting in line behind several others. Just as he was about to climb up the ladder, a voice belonging to third grader Bobby Prather yelled out, “Hey, Delacourt, why doesn’t your mother live with your father?”
Another third grader, Doug Bayliss, and Bobby’s cohort, tossed out, “Jonah doesn’t got no mother.”
“That’s because his mother was a druggie and a whore,” Bobby declared. “My dad says that people who do drugs are stupid. That makes your mother dumb and stupid.”
“I heard he never had a mother,” another boy chimed in.
Jonah stepped back from the slide and shouted, “I do too. She’s just dead is all. And she wasn’t a whore!”
“She was and I say that makes Jonah Delacourt a bastard,” Bobby proclaimed to everyone.
“I am not. You take that back,” Jonah said, clenching his fists, ready to fight.
Tommy Gates, a stocky boy, moved in beside Jonah, prepared to show support. “You cut that out, Bobby. Stop picking on Jonah. He never did nothin’ to you.”
More ugly words flew back and forth causing the other kids to gather round to watch the fracas build up into a full-blown fight. The shouting got the attention of more and more kids as an inner circle formed around the five boys involved and grew out from the center.
From the stoop near the door, Olivia Brach spotted her favorite troublemaker, Bobby Prather. After teaching third grade for five years, Olivia recognized a boy with a disruptive homelife. The Prathers were known far and wide for having a tumultuous marriage. They lived on Athena Circle and couldn’t stop yelling and screaming at each other long enough to get much else done. Neither one refused to give an inch in a fight or walk away to stop the verbal battery. Since the start of school, Olivia had seen Bobby cultivate a foul mouth. His friend, Douglas, didn’t help matters. The only thing the two boys excelled at more than name-calling was picking on younger classmates.
Olivia leaned back inside the doorway, called out to another teacher in the hallway. “Go get Ms. Dickinson. I want her to see this. And hurry. Tell her Bobby is at it again.”
Olivia darted off the porch and headed toward the group of children. Pushing her way through short little bodies she reached the fray about the same time Bobby drew back his fist to punch Jonah.
Focusing all her efforts on Bobby though, Olivia missed the Delacourt boy behind her about to make his charge toward his tormentor.
Good thing the principal grabbed Jonah around the waist in time to prevent a full-out brawl.
Julianne Dickinson raised her voice over the din. “Boys, stop this! My office. Right now, this minute! No argument.” To the other children, the principal instructed, “Recess will be over soon. Go back to playing or you’ll miss the opportunity before you have to go back to class.” With that, she marched both boys into the building and straight into her office.
“Now, you want to tell me what started this?” Julianne demanded, looking first at Bobby for an explanation. “I want the truth.”
Bobby hung his head, unable to take his eyes off the floor.
Turning to Jonah she hoped for enlightenment. “Tell me what happened.”
That was all the prompting Jonah needed to repeat the ugly things Bobby had said about his mother.
Julianne stared at Bobby, tilted his chin up to meet her eyes. “Is that true, Bobby? Did you say all that about someone else’s mother? How could you say those things? What if someone said that about your own mother? How would you feel then?”
“I didn’t say anything. Jonah just wanted to fight,” Bobby muttered swinging his feet back and forth under the chair.
Julianne sighed at the boy’s stubborn resistance to the truth. Knowing Bobby’s reputation for dishonesty she pressed further, “You should probably know that I heard you taunting Jonah from the steps. So there really isn’t any point in denying it. Besides that, you’re two grades ahead of him. Why is an eight-year-old picking on someone who’s six? If that
wasn’t enough, now you’re lying to me. I’m calling your parents in hopes they’ll put a stop to this behavior of yours. We have a long school year ahead of us. I don’t want to have to haul you into my office every day because you’ve been acting out like this with your classmates.”
Julianne turned to Jonah. “And you, fighting isn’t the answer, I’m also calling your father. He’ll probably want to come get you.”
When his cell phone dinged, Thane stood in the middle of his restaurant talking to a potential supplier. The phone number ID that came up on the digital readout said Pelican Pointe Elementary. Never a good sign, thought Thane as he excused himself to take the call.
“This is Thane Delacourt.”
“Mr. Delacourt, this is Julianne Dickinson. There’s been some trouble at school.”
“Is Jonah okay?”
Thane listened as the principal caught him up on what had happened.
“It’s my belief that it’s this sort of thing that brings out an opportunity where you have the power to turn negative, ugly words into a positive by reinforcing the image of his mother,” Julianne offered. “It’s a critical time to listen to his concerns and hear what he has to say about what happened.”
“I agree. I’ll see you in a couple minutes.”
It took him less than ten minutes to finish up with the supplier and make the short drive to school. In days past, he’d spent his fair share of time sweating it out in the principal’s office, waiting for one of his parents to walk through the door. It brought back memories when he spotted Jonah wiggling in what looked like a very uncomfortable chair in the outer office area.
“Hey, buddy. You okay?”
“Daddy! What took you so long?”
“I got here as soon as I could.” At the sound of his voice, Ms. Dickinson came out of her office to greet him, so he turned back to Jonah and said, “You stay put while I talk to Ms. Dickinson, okay?”
“O-kay.” A hangdog Jonah sat back down, impatient with the turn of events.
Thane disappeared through the doorway and into the principal’s domain.
“Thanks for coming,” she said.
“Thanks for calling me. I won’t try to pretend I’m not upset because I am, especially since it involved an altercation with a much older, much larger kid than Jonah. I try to make sure I’m here every day after school to walk him home, mostly it’s to let him know I’m around, but if this becomes a recurring issue, you can bet I won’t miss an afternoon where I’m waiting on the sidewalk for him.”
“Mr. Delacourt, I don’t blame you for feeling that way. You should know Bobby Prather has a bit of a past. He got expelled last year from the San Sebastian school where he was enrolled for exactly the same thing. Here, Bobby’s been in trouble since the first day he walked through the door.”
“You’re telling me a second grader got expelled for using this kind of language about another boy’s mother?”
“Yes, and for egging on another student to fight. I’ve already informed the Prathers that if there’s another incident like this one, they’ll have to consider getting their son into counseling.”
“Let’s hope this was an isolated thing and the parents heed your advice, get the boy some help and this Prather kid gets the message.”
Later as father and son drove back to the restaurant, Thane quizzed Jonah. “Is there anything you want to ask me?”
“My mom wasn’t a whore.”
“That’s an ugly word, Jonah. I don’t want you using it, okay? Not ever. And no, your mother wasn’t that. She had problems. She got sick and she died because of those problems.”
“Drugs, right?”
At that moment, Thane wanted to wring the little playground bully’s neck himself. He didn’t like the kid who’d planted these ideas in his son’s head. But that sentiment wouldn’t do Jonah any good now. “Sometimes when a person is unhappy they resort to taking medication to feel better. Your mother was hurting so she went that route. It’s never a good solution and it always leads to other problems.”
“Did you ever take drugs?”
How was he supposed to answer that minefield of a question? To keep it simple, Thane lied. “No, and you shouldn’t either.” He switched gears again. “Jonah, this kid, this Bobby Prather, he’s done this same thing to other kids before.”
“So he’s just mean?”
“Yeah, and probably unhappy at home.”
Done with it for now, Jonah was the one who segued into another subject. “Can I have a puppy? I’ll take good care of it.”
Grateful for something else to discuss, Thane spared his son an eager glance. “You really know how to milk this for all it’s worth, don’t you?”
“I just want a puppy of my own.”
Thane let out an audible sigh. “I guess we should go call Izzy and invite her along to check out those puppies Tommy has. Maybe she can help you pick one out. Whaddya say?”
“Really, Dad?”
“Yep. As I see it, it’s the only thing to do.” He picked up his phone, sent a text. “We’ll see if Izzy’s afternoon is booked.”
Twenty seconds later, the response bounced back.
“What did she say?” Jonah wanted to know.
“Looks like it’s a go. She’s free and would love to help you find the perfect dog.”
Jonah pumped a fist in the air. “Yay!! But Tommy’s still at school.”
“Then we’ll wait until school is out.”
At three-thirty the two were waiting for Izzy on the porch when she sailed up the Delacourt driveway on her bike. “Hey, guys. How’s it going?”
Bouncing on his toes, Jonah ran out to greet her. “We’re ready to pick out a dog.”
“You should get one too,” Thane pointed out with a wry smile. “You’d be less alone way up there on the hill. Just think how happy you’d be when the dog greeted you at the door every evening.”
“Hmm, there is that. But working on me ahead of time might be fruitless. Tommy might have only one left.”
“True. We’ll soon see. The Gates house is just around the corner on Cape May. We can walk and talk while Jonah figures out a name.”
“I’m gonna call him Leo.”
“What kind of dogs are these exactly?” Izzy asked.
“You mean breed?” Thane replied. “From what Archer told me when I called earlier, they’re all mutts of indeterminate origin, a product of his Labrador mix meeting up with the Campbell’s golden retriever.”
Thane caught sight of the rambler-style single-story house that looked straight out of the fifties. The grass had been cut. The shrubs neatly trimmed. It reminded him that Tommy’s father, Archer Gates, had moved back to Pelican Pointe from Fresno bringing his son with him. The forty-year-old had gone through a contentious and costly divorce. Archer’s mother, Prissie, had opened the door to her home so that her son and grandson could get back on even footing. Because of the breakup, Archer had been struggling with depression and alcohol. Tommy had been caught up in all of it.
Today, Tommy sat in the yard surrounded by four energetic furry balls of fluff and one adult female dog that looked on. Thane had a ray of hope Jonah might pass when none of the pooches turned out to be a black and white combination. But as he Thane had to concede though the adorable angle might prove to be too much.
“Hey, Jonah,” Tommy yelled from his position on the lawn. “These are the ones I have leftover. My gran’s been working on getting them housebroken. They’re really good about not pooping in the house.”
“There’s good news for anyone who’s ever tried housebreaking one,” Izzy announced. “That’s a huge plus in my book. You should snap one of these bad girls up, Jonah.”
Almost immediately, one in particular, the one with a soft gold and white coat, spotted Jonah and pounced. As Jonah squatted down to get a better look, the dog jumped up and began to lick his face. The boy rolled on the grass giggling at the liveliness of the pup. Completely captivated by the pooch, Jonah seemed to have fo
rgotten about his previous stance on color preference.
“This one, Daddy. I want this one,” Jonah said, sneaking out a series of belly laughs. “This one’s Leo.”
“Uh, Jonah, that’s a girl dog,” Thane pointed out.
“Girls are all we have left,” Tommy informed them. “We had seven but the three males all went first.”
“Any backup names for a girl?” Thane asked his son. Maybe, just maybe, Jonah had his heart set on a male and would take a pass on these. But when the boy wrapped his arms around the dog’s belly and hugged tighter, Thane knew they’d be leaving there with a new member of the family.
“Then how about the name Jax?” Jonah offered.
Thane smiled, shook his head. “You sure about that? Jax still sounds like a male name…sort of.”
“I like Jax.”
“Jax it is then.” About that time Thane looked over at Izzy who was dealing with a lively puppy of her own nipping at her knees. The pooch shared her sister’s coloring and features but bore deeper shades of brown with swaths of white on her feet. “Whatcha got there, Isabella?”
She grinned and sat on her haunches. “I believe I’ve found the answer to my lonely nights.”
“Now that’s a shame but definitely a challenge if I ever heard one,” Thane said with a wink. “Looks like you two have bonded. You gotta name picked out?”
“I think I’ll call her Jazz.”
“Jax and Jazz. I have a feeling that’s a sister combo that spells trouble.”
“We’ll find out sooner rather than later if we don’t stop by the market and stock up on treats and food for both.”
“Good idea. I’m glad someone’s thinking clearly,” Thane said as he steered them toward Murphy’s.
Once he got back home, Bobby hadn’t fared as well as Jonah. When he’d reached his house, both his parents had been in a snit. But then that was the usual atmosphere at the Prather house.
Life for Peggy and Greg Prather had become a bitter pill they both were forced to swallow daily. It seemed they’d accepted their acrimonious union as an everyday occurrence. They both knew they were in a rut but refused to do anything but disagree.
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