by Karen Nappa
Tim stood like a store mannequin, but then he whispered, "I was scared, Mom, s-so s-scared." He swung his arms around her neck and started sobbing. Connor took his place behind her and steadied her with a firm hand on her shoulder while she held Tim and soothed him with comforting strokes between his shoulder blades. They remained that way until the oven timer indicated the pizzas were ready. Nobody spoke, the only sounds, Tim's muffled whimpers.
Connor extracted himself and pulled on the oven mitts. He kept a weathered eye on Suzie and her son while he extracted the pizzas from the oven. Although Suzie appeared upset and sad, she was standing tall with her feet braced and her shoulders squared. She was being strong for her boy's sake. Tim was purging himself of his agony with a good cry.
Connor checked his own emotions. Sad and confused, but not angry anymore. Good! He buried his devastating memories of Tom swinging at the end of that rope—memories, things from the past. This was different.
He cut the pizza into slices. From the looks of it, Suzie had used frozen cheese pizzas for the bottom. She had added pepperoni, bell peppers and mozzarella to one, the other held a topping of artichoke hearts, goat cheese and prosciutto. His rùnag didn't settle for plain food or bland taste. His gaze connected with Suzie, and without prompting, she led Tim to the table. He loved the instinctive way she understood him. Tim followed his mother meekly and allowed Suzie to press him in the chair. Connor settled the plate with pizza on the table and he held out a chair for Suzie before sitting down, himself.
Tim, who would normally be inhaling his second slice before the rest would have taken their first bite, didn't eat but played with his food.
"Do you want to talk about it?" Suzie inquired softly.
At first, Tim shook his head hesitantly, but then he lifted his head. "I'm so mixed up right now. I'm scared for Josh. I'm worried what will happen to him. I'm spitting mad at him." He took a ragged breath and continued. "I know now, it was a bad idea to promise Josh not to tell anyone about what was going on. Uncle James said I shouldn't have." His eyes brimmed with tears again. "What if I could have prevented this?" he whispered. "This is all my fault."
"Oh, honey." Suzie was next to him in a heartbeat. "Look at me." She waited until Tim complied. "None of this is your fault. Or Josh's."
Tim allowed Suzie to comfort him while he calmed down, and Connor couldn't miss the tears that ran over her cheeks as well. Connor moved to the other side of the room to give them space but was still close, in case either of them needed him. He knew the bond between Suzie and her children was strong, and he didn't want to come between them. He wanted to be there for them.
Suzie placed her e-reader on the bedside table. She had kept herself awake until Connor came up so they could have the conversation he had so far avoided. Talking with him had been out of the question during dinner. Afterward, Tim had excused himself and had gone to bed early. Suzie and Connor had watched a movie, but she couldn't remember what the story had been about. She was still upset about what had happened earlier and how Connor had evaded her need to talk. He got into bed, and she pushed up onto her elbow to look Connor in the eye. Suzie wanted answers.
Connor sighed and let himself fall back onto the pillow. He placed his hand under his head and stared up to the ceiling. Suzie leaned over him, one eyebrow cocked. He grinned at her attempt at domination, and she slapped his chest. "Not funny."
"Yes, it is." He sighed again and amended. "No it isn't. The events from today reminded me of Afghanistan." He fell silent again.
"Go on," Suzie prompted.
Connor turned a stern gaze to her. "I don't want to talk about it now."
"Now?" she inquired on a low tone.
"Probably never." He had to be honest with her.
"It feels like you're shutting me out, Connor," Suzie said, "I understand it's hard to talk about the war, so I won't ask, but I'll be here to listen when you're ready to talk about it. I want to help. What I do ask, no, I demand, is that you don't hold back about anything else. I hate secrets." She tilted her head and set her jaw. The next moment, Suzie couldn't suppress a yawn. He wondered if this were the right time to tell her about his loan to The Savory Table. It was technically a secret, but she needed rest. He would wait for a better time.
"Sleep, rùnag," he whispered as Suzie turned around and was out before her head hit the pillow.
Josh pressed on the button that adjusted the hospital bed. They had only kept him in intensive care until they were sure his concussion wasn't serious. It was his second day in a regular room, and his stomach had settled, but he ached all over. He wondered what would happen to him now. His mother hadn't come to see him, which wasn't really surprising. His biggest problem was that nobody would give him a straight answer about why he was still in the hospital. They had brought in a psychiatrist to talk to him about taking the pills, but he'd pretended it was just an accident. At least he wasn't hungry any more. It was almost time for dinner. He didn't understand why people complained about hospital food. It might be a bit bland and not as great as the food from Mrs. Kaspar, but three meals a day was pretty good, in his opinion.
The door to his room opened, but instead of the food cart, it was the female police detective. He couldn't keep his face from falling.
Paula Stone walked into the room. "Hello, Josh, how are you feeling?"
Josh shrugged. "Okay, I guess."
"Can you tell me what happened at home?"
Josh shuddered. He didn't want to go back. Paula placed a careful hand on his shoulder. Josh shrugged and shook it off. He couldn't look her in the face. How could he explain his horror to this stranger? His back still ached, and he thought he had felt some blood trickling down his leg when he ran from the house. The bastard boyfriend had hit him square in the face, and Josh had blacked out for a while—he wasn't sure for how long. As soon as he had regained consciousness, he had fled the house, swearing he wouldn't come back this time. He had grabbed a bottle of his mother's pain meds from the side table in the hall and ran to the only spot he could think of—the treehouse.
"Nothing happened," he croaked, his throat still raw from being intubated.
Det. Stone nodded. "We can prosecute your mother and her friend based on the drugs we found and the medical report the hospital made. It would help the case a lot if you could give us a statement." She paused and glanced at the chair. "Is it okay if I sit down?"
Josh shrugged again. "It's a free country."
The detective chuckled and settled in the chair. "How about I ask you some questions, and you decide from question to question if you want to answer."
"How about he doesn't answer any questions without someone to look out for his interests present?" a male voice sounded from the door.
Josh looked at the door with big eyes. A familiar looking man and woman entered the room. Josh couldn't think where he'd seen either of them before, but he didn't think it had been together.
Det. Stone got up from the chair. "James! Laura! Good to see you." She shook the man's hand and hugged the woman, who returned the gesture with a warm smile on her face. "So it worked out?"
Josh looked puzzled. Worked out? Yeah, the man probably worked out, the shirt couldn't hide the muscles underneath. The adults blocked the door. Josh felt trapped. Ethan had done a lot of damage, but what could this guy do? Josh looked over to the window. He didn't know which floor he was on, so the window would be his only means of escape.
"Josh, relax and breathe." The firm male voice penetrated through his panic and he remembered. This was Tim's uncle. Tim really liked the guy. He'd seen them a couple of times but hadn't come into the yard when the man was there. He swallowed painfully. "Look at me." Josh obeyed the order and made eye contact with the man. He didn't look angry or threatening. He actually looked kind and understanding. Josh exhaled slowly. "Good boy." The man nodded and Josh relaxed further. "I'm James Black, and this is my partner, Laura Turner. We're Tim's aunt and uncle. Do you remember us?"
"We met at
Christmas, Josh," the attractive woman said. "You stopped in after dinner and had a couple of ham sandwiches and pie."
Understanding dawned on Josh. "Yes, I remember you now."
"Is it okay for us to come closer?" Mr. Black asked.
Josh nodded warily.
"I-I don't really like it when people touch me, but you can sit down with me," he answered.
Tim's aunt, Laura Turner, said. "I remember Tim saying something about that." She smiled at him, and Josh couldn't stop staring at her. "How about we sit down for a talk now and we'll discuss your boundaries later, Josh?"
His boundaries? Josh blinked. What was she talking about?
"Since there are only two chairs in here, I'll find a third one for us," James said. "Why don't the two of you sit down?" Mr. Black left the room as the two women settled beside the bed.
Paula looked over at the brunette she had come to consider a friend. They had met about eleven months ago, when Paula had investigated the hit and run that had killed Laura's ex-husband. The circumstances of their meeting might have been a bit unorthodox, but a friendship had developed nevertheless. Laura looked radiant, so much stronger than a year before. Paula suspected Laura was going to need that strength, given the task she and James had set for themselves. She settled back and decided to observe for now. Her questions for Josh not forgotten but shoved to the background for the moment.
Josh looked back and forth between both women, like he was watching a tennis match. What was going on? Tim liked his aunt and uncle, but why were they here? He opened his mouth to ask the question, and the man walked back into the room, carrying a chair in front of him. He watched the man put the chair down at the foot of the bed and sit on it.
"Let me explain why we're here," Mr. Black said. "We're your foster parents until things are settled with your mother."
Josh blinked. What? Foster parents? He turned stunned eyes to Ms. Turner and she smiled at him again. It wasn't the creepy smile his mother sometimes gave him, but a real smile that made her eyes sparkle. Tim's aunt seemed to smile a lot.
"It means that you don't have to go back to your house. In fact, you can't, because your mother is in jail right now. You'll come and stay with us," she added.
Josh felt his throat clog up and his eyes prickled. He didn't have to return? "Stay with you? How? Why?"
"Don't worry, buddy," Mr. Black told him. "We'll figure things out as we go along. All you have to know is there are people working their asses off to make sure you'll be safe and taken care of." Ms. Turner had cleared her throat at the 'asses' and James shot a boyish grin her way.
Det. Stone stepped into the conversation with, "It's true, Josh. We know your mom is having problems with drugs, and the judge has decided it's not a safe place for a child."
Mr. Black turned to Tim's aunt. "Did you remember the new clothes we brought for Josh, honey?"
Ms. Turner showed him the bag from Kohl's department store before she handed it to Josh. "I had to guess at the sizes. I hope these fit. Your others didn't survive the emergency room, and your coat wouldn't have kept you warm on a nice spring day."
Josh couldn't believe his good fortune. His clothes usually came from Goodwill or Walmart and didn't last long. He'd never had anything from a store as nice as Kohl's.
"How about we give you some privacy to change, and then we can talk on more equal footing?" Mr. Black asked as he rose from his seat. "I'll talk to the nurse about getting your discharge taken care of, and we can all go somewhere to talk after that. You're probably ready to leave the hospital."
Josh started to nod but then halted. "Um, can I have dinner first?"
Ms. Turner stared at him with her mouth agape, and Mr. Black started to laugh. "How about we pick up take-out on the way home? Would you care to join us, Paula?" He turned to the policewoman.
"That would be great. We can all talk over good food. Is your address still the same, James? I'll meet you there in half an hour if that's okay. I need to clock out for the day. The department is cutting back on overtime."
"Same place. We'll see you then."
Mr. Black turned his attention back to Josh. "Do you like Chinese, or would you prefer pizza?"
Josh's eyes almost popped out of their sockets. "P-pizza, please." Did he like Chinese? How should he know? He'd never had Chinese before.
"Fine. I'll get the order called in while we wait for all the hospital formalities," Ms. Turner said.
After Mr. Black had signed some papers and they had been given discharge instructions, they left the hospital. They had scheduled a follow up appointment for Josh to make sure his injuries were healing well. His head still hurt from the concussion and he had three broken ribs, too. He had instructions that limited him to very light activity, and he wasn't to go back to school until the doctor cleared him. Josh had followed the couple to a truck with 'BlackSmith Construction' on the side. He had made sure to stay out of arm's reach of the two, but to his relief, they hadn't attempted to touch him.
The drive to the pizzeria had been uneventful. Josh looked around in astonishment. Artègo Pizza was something else. Not that he been in a lot of restaurants, but still. The delicious scents of melted cheese, garlic and herbs he couldn't name permeated the air and made his mouth water. Okay, hospital food wasn't that great after all. Their order wasn't ready yet, but Mr. Black told Josh they were getting an extra-large Stockyard. Josh couldn't believe a pizza that contained pepperoni, salami, ground beef, some Italian sausage he couldn't remember, and bacon actually existed. It was more meat than he usually had in a week! The man had also ordered two salads, a Cobb and a Caesar. As they waited for their order to be finished, Josh sat back in the hard, wooden chair and took in his surroundings. Big pictures on wooden walls, big metal lamps, everything seemed oversized. He hoped they'd extended that theme to the food. Those few meals in the hospital, although warm and at regular intervals, hadn't quelled his hunger. He couldn't remember a time when he wasn't hungry.
Mr. Black had said they would take the food home. Home. Josh longed for a place like Tim's home. What would a place that this big imposing man called home be like? Josh stole a glance at Tim's aunt, Ms. Turner. She looked nice. Before he could think more on the strange idea that he would be living with them, the food was ready and they were on the move again, heading to their house. Just because they called it home didn't mean it would be his for long. He knew about foster care. He had met a few foster kids in school. They had all been in multiple homes and thought it was normal. Some got bounced from place to place every few months.
Det. Stone was there waiting for them when they pulled up. The four of them went straight into the kitchen together.
Josh finished the last bite of fruit they had for dessert. Mr. Black had insisted on his having a spoonful of salad with each slice of pizza, but Josh hadn't minded. Food was food in his world. He would even eat every bit of yucky mushroom, but as soon as Mr. Black had noticed his slight wince, he had only served him Caesar salad, making sure every serving held a big chunk of chicken. Josh studied the couple from under his lashes. He still didn't get it. Why was he here? What did they want from him? Adults always wanted something, didn't they? But Mrs. Kaspar never seemed to. He was confused. The police detective wanted him to talk. At least he understood that much.
"Now that we've all eaten, is it all right if I ask you some questions, Josh?" she said. "James will stop me if I ask something that he feels is inappropriate. I really just want to know about your home life."
"I don't know. It's okay, I guess." Josh didn't want to talk about his home life, if that was what you called it.
"When the EMTs brought you into the ER, you had a lot of fresh bruises and a concussion. Can you tell me how they happened?"
"I don't know. I'm just clumsy, I guess." He shrugged his shoulders.
"Josh, Tim told me about what Ethan was doing to you. Do you think you could tell Detective Stone, please?" Mr. Black interposed.
That got Josh's attention. "He pr
omised he wouldn't. What did you do to get him to talk? He never should have said anything."
"He told me because he was worried about you, Josh. You had taken an overdose of pills. I wanted to find out why. We all would like to know. Did you take them for a reason?"
"I took them because everything hurt, and when my mom takes them, she says they make her feel good." Josh played for time. He wasn't sure it was safe to say anything more.
"Is that the only reason you took them, Josh?" The police detective spoke again.
"Yeah." Josh was more definite this time. Maybe they would abandon the subject and leave him alone if he made everything sound like an accident.
"You still haven't told me about your home life. What were you so clumsy at that you ended up with a concussion?" The woman reminded him of a pit bull he'd seen once. It had dragged an old bone that had long since lost all of its meat from the garbage, but the dog kept at it, trying to get more out of it.
"I fell down the stairs. Okay? Anybody can fall down the stairs, can't they? I hit my head when I got to the bottom." The last part was true, as far as it went. He left out the part where Ethan pushed him down the basement steps after beating him up.
"Okay. What can you tell me about Ethan Young? Have he and your mother been together long?"
"I don't know. I think he started coming around in September or October."
"Does he live at your house, or does he have a place of his own?"
"He mostly stays with us." That seemed like a safe enough answer.
"Does he ever have visitors at your house?"
"I don't know. I'm at school all day."
"Have you ever seen any drugs in the house?"
"My mom smokes marijuana sometimes. It makes the house stink. Isn't that legal now or something?" He hoped that was okay to say. Even though she creeped him out sometimes, she was still his mother.