by Claire Adams
"Miss Walsh!" the chief called as Riley and I walked away. She ran after me and handed me a sheet of paper torn out of her notebook. On it were all the numbers to call in order to get the help I'd need to deal with the fallout from the fire. At the bottom of the page was a number with the word Al-Anon written next to it. I looked up at the chief quizzically. She shrugged and said, "In case you need a place to go to talk about it. Your mother was pretty toasted when we pulled her out of there."
"Thank you," I said as I gave her a grateful look. I tucked the paper into my purse before Riley and I continued our trek to Patrick's.
*
"Are you okay?" Patrick asked as he stood in the doorway of the parish house. "Were you there when the fire started?"
"We're fine. We were still at work," I said as Riley and I entered the house and looked around. The living room was equipped with sheets, blankets, and towels set out on the stiff couches. The room smelled musty and old, but I was grateful for a place to stay.
"Mama's at the hospital. They said she's resting comfortably," Patrick said. "I'll go over in the morning and check on her."
"Great," I nodded. "I've got to go to work and Riley's been suspended from school, so I'll take her with me again."
"Leah!" Riley protested as she threw herself down on the nearest couch and pretended to pout. "You said you weren't going to tell anybody!"
"Patrick doesn't count," I said tossing my purse onto the other sofa and shaking my head.
"Gee, thanks," Patrick grumbled with a mischievous smile.
"You know what I mean," I said as I rolled my eyes at him before turning to Riley. "I didn't tell anyone at work, just like I promised."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah," she said waving her hand impatiently. "Are we going to get some dinner soon or what? I'm starving!"
"Listen, missy," I began, only to be cut off by my brother.
"I've got some dinner in the kitchen if you're that hungry," Patrick offered.
"What do you have?" Riley asked eyeing him suspiciously. "Probably liver and brussels sprouts or something, right? Isn't that what God eats?"
"Riley!" I scolded.
"Well, it's true, isn't it?" she asked as she looked at Patrick. "God eats all that stuff that's good for you, but that kids hate."
"Well, I don't know about that," Patrick replied with a playful smile. "But I can certainly tell you that the dinner that's in the kitchen is definitely not liver or brussels sprouts!"
Riley reluctantly got up off the couch and dragged her feet across the carpet. I could tell that she was tired, but so was I. I didn't have the heart to nag her to pick up her feet and walk like a normal person. Her spirits lifted when we entered the kitchen and saw a box from our regular pizza place sitting on the table next to two bottles of soda.
"Uncle Patrick! Thank you!" Riley cried as she whipped open the box and pulled out a large slice of pepperoni pizza and bit into it.
"Thanks, Patrick," I said with a grateful smile as I sat down at the table and helped myself to dinner. Patrick nodded, and then quickly exited the kitchen. I wasn't sure what was going on with him, but it had been a long day. I was too tired to dig deeper.
Riley and I quickly polished off the soda and pizza, and then went into the living room to make up the couches. Once we'd done that, Riley looked around for something to do. When she couldn't find a television set or a computer, she began perusing the bookshelf that stretched floor to ceiling across one wall of the living room.
"Wow, there are a lot of books here," she observed as she dropped down and tilted her head to read the titles closest to the floor. "A History of Angels, Angels Among Us, When Angels Walk Among the Living . . . Wow, they really like their angels, don't they?"
Not knowing what to say, I simply nodded, and Riley turned back to the books. For the next hour, I sat making a list of all the things I needed to do. By the time I was done, I felt overwhelmed but more in control. I looked up and saw Riley engrossed in a book she'd found on the shelves.
"Something good?" I asked.
"Mmm-hmm," she nodded and kept reading.
"Okay, well, it's time for bed," I prodded. "We need to be up and out of here early tomorrow morning."
Riley got up and went to brush her teeth, leaving the book on the couch. While she was out of the room, I picked the book up and read the title: Orphan at Any Age: Children Who've Lost Parents. I bit my lip and put the book back down.
"We're going to be okay," I said after we'd settled in and shut off the light. "I promise."
"I know, Leah," Riley replied sleepily. "We always are."
Chapter Twenty-Five
Jack
"Hey, good lookin', whatcha got cookin'," I sang as I walked into Leah's office early the next morning. I stopped as soon as she looked up at me. There were dark circles under her eyes, and her lips curled into a weak smile before she turned back to the computer and continued typing. I quickly toned it down and asked, "Everything okay?"
"Yeah, fine," she nodded without looking at me. "Just a lot of stuff to take care of this morning. Did you need something?"
"I just wanted to touch base and talk about the construction," I said as I tried to figure out what was going on with Leah. "Are you sure you're okay?"
"I'm fine, Jack," she said tersely. "If you want to talk about the project, I'll be done in a few minutes and can meet you out in the warehouse."
"All right, I'll be waiting," I said, backing out of the room confused.
The construction project was moving quickly and the warehouse team was helpful in answering my questions. I took a look at Leah's new office and found that the crew was nearly done with it. I pulled out my phone and called Norma and told her to have the furniture brought in that afternoon once the crew was done with the finishing touches.
The new office had been done in light wood and cool calm tones of green and cream. I'd picked out furniture that would complement the colors as well as be functional. I hoped that Leah would like the overall effect. I walked across the room and pushed open the door leading to the fully outfitted bathroom and found Riley curled up in the shower stall reading a book.
"Hey, you're not supposed to be in here," I said hearing my voice echo off the tile walls.
"Huh?" Riley looked up confused. "Oh, well, it was the only place where things were quiet."
"What's going on?" I asked.
"Dunno, just trying to stay out of the way," she shrugged as she put her finger in the book to hold her place and sat up. She seemed more withdrawn since the day before.
"You okay?" I asked, remembering what it was like to be that age and have adults constantly badgering me.
"Fine," she shrugged again looking down at the book in her lap.
"You sure? You seem kind of quiet," I said in a casual tone.
"Just a lot of stuff going on, that's all," she said quietly.
"Well, I don't want to pry, but if you need someone to talk to, my door is open and I'm happy to listen," I said, turning to leave the bathroom. "Just do me a favor, and don't let the work crew mess this up too much, okay? I want it to look nice for Leah when she comes down to see it."
"Jack?" Riley called just as I walked out the door.
"Yeah?" I said, turning to look back at her. She looked small and miserable as she bit her lip.
"Never mind," she said.
"Okay, well, the offer stands," I said before exiting the new office. I wondered what was going on with her and Leah, but I knew better than to push.
*
That afternoon, my brother called to ask what I was doing to ensure that Baby Steps would turn a profit.
"What are you talking about, Lincoln?" I asked, irritated that he was checking up on me again.
"I'm talking about the fact that the company now needs to turn a profit to cover not only the yearly shareholders' profit, but also the loan you took out to renovate the warehouse," he said sounding annoyed.
"Don't talk down to me, brother," I shot back. "I know what I
'm doing."
"Do you now? I had no idea that you knew so much about the baby supply business," he said doing his best to convey surprise. It always irritated me the way that Lincoln could turn anything I did into a way to cut me down and show my weaknesses.
"I'm positioning us to take on new clients and increase our shipments over the next nine months," I said, maintaining a calm I didn't feel. "You of all people should know that it takes time to build new business and then turn it into regular dividends."
"I'm not sure about that," he said smugly. "I've always had the good fortune to be productive from the start of any project."
"Yes, well, that's how it goes when daddy holds your hand and walks you right into the vault full of cash, now isn't it?" I replied coolly. I could hear my brother inhale sharply on the other end, and I knew I'd hit a nerve.
"I've earned my success on my own," he growled. "You know that."
"Yes, well, I'm doing this on my own, too," I said. "Is there anything else you need, Lincoln?"
My brother was silent on the other end as I held my breath, hoping that he wasn't waiting to drop another bomb. After what felt like an eternity, but couldn't have been more than 30 seconds, I took a deep breath and said, "No? Well, then I've got a lot of work to do, so I'm going to let you go."
Lincoln said nothing before hanging up the phone. The smashing sound on the other end let me know that while this battle might have been won, the war was far from over.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Leah
"Wait, what?" I said into the phone. "This can't be happening!"
"I'm sorry, Leah," Patrick said. "You didn't pay the insurance policy, so the only way we're going to be able to deal with the house is to sell it."
"No, Patrick! We can't sell the house!" I protested. The investigators had been out to assess the damage, and they determined that a lit cigarette had fallen out of the ashtray and burned through the rug beneath the sofa, causing the fire. We'd been lucky that Mama had gone up to her room and lay down on the bed instead of falling asleep on the couch like she usually did during the day. But the damages were more than what we could afford to fix, and the house had been rendered uninhabitable by the fire.
"Leah, there's no other way," Patrick sighed. "I'm sorry. There's no money to repair the place, and Mama needs care. If we sell the house, we can afford to put her in a long-term care facility and get you and Riley an apartment."
"Why are you doing this?" I asked.
"Let's get something straight, Leah," he said sternly. "I'm not doing anything. You didn't pay the insurance policy. That's all on you. I'm doing the best I can with what I have, and it's not much. So stop talking to me like I'm the enemy."
"Don't lecture me, Patrick!" I shot back. "I'm the one who stayed. Dammit!"
"So, we're back to this again, are we?" he said. "Look, I'm not going to have this conversation with you, Leah. I did what I had to do. I'm sorry you resent me for it but, after Molly disappeared, I had to get out."
"I know. I know. You took care of yourself and left me to hold it all together," I said bitterly. "Well, good for you, Patrick. I'm glad you've been saved, or whatever it is that you've done. The rest of us still live in this world, and we need a place to stay! I want to fix the house and move back in."
"Tell me exactly how you think you're going to do that, Leah," Patrick prompted. "How are you going to pay for the repairs and take care of Mama? She needs help, Leah. She's an alcoholic, and she's become a danger to herself and those around her. What if Riley had been home? Have you thought about that, Leah?"
"Of course, I have!" I shouted into the phone. "If Riley had been home, she would have stopped the fire."
"Do you hear yourself, Leah?" Patrick asked gently. "You're expecting a twelve-year-old to take care of her alcoholic grandmother. It's not reasonable—or healthy."
"What else do you want me to do?" I asked as the tears began to flow down my cheeks. "I'm doing the best I can, Patrick. I'm trying to hold it all together. I can't do this anymore. For God's sake, I'm 28 years old. I'm parenting a twelve-year-old, motherless child while I care for our mother and work a full-time job! I never asked for any of this! When do I get to have a life, Patrick? When does my life not involve cleaning up everyone else's mess?"
"Sell the house, Leah," Patrick said without further comment.
"Screw you, Patrick," I said before disconnecting. I put my head in my hands and sobbed silently as I absorbed the fact that I was truly alone in the world. If we didn't have a house to return to, where were we going to go? I cried until I felt there were no more tears. I wiped my eyes, took a deep breath, and looked up to see Riley standing silently in the doorway watching me with wide eyes.
"Riley, I wanted . . ." I began. She shook her head sadly before turning and running down the hall away from me.
"Riley!" I shouted as I shot out from behind my desk to follow her. "Riley, come back, and let's talk about this!"
But she was gone.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Jack
"Mr. Yates, you've got a visitor," Norma said through the intercom. "Would you like me to send her in?"
"What the hell?" I muttered as I picked up the phone and dialed Norma's extension. "I don't remember scheduling a meeting this morning, Norma. What is this about? And since when did you start calling me Mr. Yates?"
"I believe this is a last-minute addition to your schedule, darlin'," Norma drawled more heavily than necessary to underscore her irritation with me. "You want me to send her in to chat with you?"
"Fine, send her in," I said in an exasperated tone as I threw up my hands and waited for my new priority to walk through the door. A few seconds later, the door opened, and Riley walked through. She looked at me from under her lashes, then turned and looked back at Norma who was standing guard, holding the door. Norma shot me a look that told me I'd be dead if I screwed this up, and only when I nodded that the message had been clearly received did she shut the door quietly.
"Riley, hey, c'mon in and have a seat," I said motioning to the chairs across from my desk. "Can I get you something to drink?"
"Do you have any soda?" she asked hopefully.
"I think I've got water and maybe some spoiled cream in this little fridge over here. But if you really want a soda, I can ask Norma to go get a couple for us," I offered.
"Nah, it's okay," she said as she dropped down into the chair closest to my desk and looked around. "This office is big, but it's really ugly."
"Yeah, it used to be my Pop's. He didn't have very good taste, apparently," I said shrugging. I watched her closely, trying to figure out how to proceed. "I've been trying to figure out what to do with it, but I didn't have any good ideas. What do you think?"
"Are you really asking me what I think, or are you doing that grown-up thing where you ask me just to have something to talk about?" she asked bluntly.
"No, actually, I really want to know your opinion," I said as I stood up and walked around the desk. I sat down across from her in the other chair and rested my elbows on my knees as I spoke. "I always have good ideas when it comes to stuff for other people but, when I have to decide for me, I never quite know what's right, you know?"
"Seems like a personal problem to me," she said picking at the hem of her shirt. I could tell she had something she wanted to say and that she was weighing the consequences of saying it by testing me.
"It probably is," I agreed. I decided that the path of least aggression was the best one to traverse with this child. So I waited.
It was an uncomfortable silence punctuated by Riley's fidgeting. I stayed as still as a statue and silently thanked my brother for teaching me the game despite the fact that I'd hated him intensely when he'd enforced the rules and then called me out when I broke them.
As I waited, my mind wandered. I wondered what was happening with Leah and why she wouldn't talk to me about it. Then my brain moved on to Sloan as I wondered what she had up her sleeve and tried to decide
if my choice to cut off the sexual part of our relationship was a smart thing or if she'd . . .
"Do you miss your dad?" Riley asked cutting into my thoughts.
"That's an interesting question," I said as I rubbed a hand across my eyes and sat back in my chair. "Why do you ask?"
"I'm just curious," she shrugged before adding, "I don't know anyone who’s lost their parent, except you."
"Yeah, I guess you and I are kind of in that same boat, aren't we?" I nodded, wondering how I was supposed to handle this. I knew nothing about what had happened to her mother, and I didn't want to say the wrong thing and open up a can of worms.
"Do you miss him?" she repeated as she stared at me, waiting.
"Well, that's a difficult question to answer," I said as I thought about how to respond.
"You don't, do you?" she said. It wasn't an accusation, just an acknowledgement of the facts.
"No, actually, I don't," I admitted for the first time.
"Was he mean to you? Is that why you don't miss him?" she asked before looking away.
"Let's just say that my father was a difficult man," I said, carefully sidestepping the things I'd prefer not to discuss with a twelve-year-old.
"My mom was difficult, too," she said looking at me straight in the eye. "I loved her, but she was very difficult. Sometimes it was hard to love her."
"Yeah, I know the feeling," I nodded, thinking that as long as Riley was leading the discussion, I was okay admitting things that matched her observations.
"Sometimes I miss her, but most of the time I'm really glad that Leah is in charge of me—and not my mom," she said. "I know that's a bad thing to say because you're supposed to love your parents, but my mom wasn't as good at taking care of me as Leah is."
"Yeah, that's a hard one," I nodded. "My Pop wasn't around a lot, but when he was, he could be really tough. So, mostly I'm glad that it was my mother who raised us."
"Is your mom nice?" she asked.
"She is," I said with a smile.
"That's good," Riley murmured as she went back to playing with the hem of her shirt. I could tell she was thinking hard about something, but again, I didn't want to interfere with her thoughts or prompt her to say something she wasn't ready to say. I had no idea how to talk to kids, so I stayed silent and slipped back into my own thoughts, waiting for Riley to tell me what was on her mind.