[Piper Anderson 01.0] Three Seconds to Rush

by Danielle Stewart

  “But,” Willow chimed in, “if all of what you just told us checks out it will help create some doubt. It’s important. I’ll take point on it and get you a report on anything I can find by the end of the week.” She was talking to Reid now, cutting Tara out completely as though she were irrelevant.

  “How about issues with your son?” Reid asked, flatly. “What is the DA’s office going to dig up about you as a parent? What do we need to know?”

  “Nothing,” she sniped, the insults feeling so raw now. “Everything I do is for him.”

  “The father,” Willow jumped in, both of them completely emotionless in their questioning. “Where is he?”

  “He’s dead,” Tara said as though that should slap them back some. She was a young widow, a single mother, and they were stomping on her relentlessly.

  “How long has he been dead and how did he die?” Willow pursued, her face still unaffected.

  “An overdose,” Tara admitted through gritted teeth. “Heroin. Sixteen months ago.” If only they could be convinced her blazing red cheeks were from anger and not guilt.

  “Tara,” Reid said, jumping to his feet. “Why didn’t you tell me this? Did you not think it was relevant that the father of your child died just over a year ago the same way you almost did?”

  “TJ didn’t do drugs when we met,” she protested. “He was hurt at his job, messed up his back, and started on pills. I had no clue it was even a problem until it was too late. I told him rehab or never talk to us again, and he walked out. He left us with nothing, like we never mattered. Do you know how hard I’ve had to work to keep us fed with a roof over our heads? You can’t imagine.”

  “How do you manage it?” Willow asked, abruptly changing the subject though Tara didn’t know why. Maybe she was defusing the tension in the room, or she was one of those people who never read the moment right. “You’ve got no friends, no support system.” She checked the papers again, looking for any indications otherwise. “You didn’t graduate high school. Boston isn’t a cheap place to live. How are you doing this? Where is Wylie when you go to your job at the deli?”

  “I have a sitter for him,” she said, running a hand over her aching head. “I work second shift at the deli from three until nine. Wylie and I deliver papers in the morning. It’s early but it’s a job I can take him along. I teach piano at the high school one morning a week after the paper delivery. When I have a lesson Wylie sleeps. He loves the piano. He sits right in his stroller and goes out like a light.”

  “The sitter,” Reid asked. “You can afford a sitter, rent, a car with insurance. How does the math add up?”

  “I don’t pay the sitter much. Her name is Cindy. I’m teaching her to play her keyboard, and she can help herself to any food in the house when she’s there. She lives in the apartment next door.”

  “How old is Cindy?” Willow asked reluctantly, not seeming to want to hear the wrong answer.

  “Ten,” Tara said, but hurried to qualify it. “She’s a good girl, very responsible for her age.”

  “You’re leaving your three-year-old son home with a ten-year-old child for over six hours every day?” Reid asked, not even fighting the conclusion in his voice. “These are the types of things the prosecutor will put into play. It goes to your judgment, and the jury will form an instant opinion of who you are as a parent based on that.”

  “Whoa,” Willow said, raising a hand up. “I hear what you’re saying, Reid, but dial it down some. Yes, we have to flush these things out and be ready to answer for them when the time comes but we do not need to cast our own opinion. You know better than that.”

  “It’s too late for that,” Tara said, blinking off angry tears. “I have a pretty clear idea of what Reid’s opinion of me is.”

  “The good news is,” Willow interjected quickly, “we are all clearly dedicated people who can unite behind a common cause. Let’s make sure we try to keep the emotion out of it.”

  Reid nodded like a child who’d been scolded and knew he deserved it. “We do need to be on the same page.”

  “How long do we have?” Willow asked, again changing the subject. “I can give you a solid week here. Then Josh will need me back home. I’ll do the rest of the work remotely and commute here as you need me.”

  “Sixty days,” Reid croaked out, and it wasn’t until that moment that Tara realized how big of a problem their timeline must be. Judging by Willow’s visceral reaction it was as if he’d just cursed, said the foulest thing anyone had ever heard.

  “Oh Reid, why?” Willow asked, dropping her head down. “The docket should be backed up. Did you actually request an earlier date?”

  “We’re trying to have this settled prior to going to family court and addressing the custody issues.” It didn’t matter how evenly Reid said it, Willow was still furious.

  “I’m going to be blunt here,” Willow began, and Tara was getting the impression blunt was her normal speed. “I think your judgment might be compromised. Rushing a case for any reason is a bad idea. You know that.”

  Tara watched Reid’s face, trying to catch the corners of it, searching for him to agree. She was desperate to believe his judgment was intact.

  “Noted,” he said with a level glare. “We’ve got time. We can pull something together.”

  “I’m jumping right in then,” Willow said, hopping to her feet. “I’ll be at the downtown hotel I stayed at for the last trial. Keep me posted.”

  It seemed a lot less like Willow was ready to leave and a lot more like she was bailing on the growing tension. Tara couldn’t really blame her.

  “Thanks again, Willow. And tell Josh I appreciate him living without you for a while. I’m sure he’s got his hands full with the kids.” Reid softened his tense face again. Something that seemed to happen every time he spoke about Willow and her family.

  “I don’t know,” Willow shrugged with a smile. “He looked pretty excited about it. So did the kids. When Dad’s in charge it’s all wear that underwear twice and mac and cheese for dinner every night.” She dipped her head and stepped out of the office, leaving behind an awkward silence that made Tara’s skin prickle.

  “Why can’t you believe me?” Tara asked. The words had been running in her mind for so long, repeating on a loop, it was impossible to keep them contained. “If you could only tell people who I am, what you know about me.”

  “Should we address the elephant in the room?” Reid asked, his nostrils flaring. “I like to leave the past in the past, but I can see you’re not willing to do the same. You’re confused. It’s going to hurt you in the long run, so I’ll just address it now.”

  “I’m not confused,” she blurted out, pounding her hand on his desk.

  He straightened his back and flattened his tie as he stood. “Just because you lied for me, I’m not going to do the same for you. The situations are different. We were kids. If that’s why you called me, because you feel like I owe you, then I can’t help you.”

  Tara stood, angry tears filling her eyes but not spilling over. “I’ve been hurt in my life before, Reid, hurt in ways you can’t imagine. But I expected it. Those people had given me every reason to expect the pain, but you . . .” She choked on the words but forced them out. “Maybe you’re right, maybe we’re not the same people we were back then, because I don’t even recognize you.”

  Storming out was shortsighted. She knew that. Tara needed Reid. He was the best path back to Wylie. And she really believed that somewhere deep down he was the boy she loved. But right now it seemed buried impossibly deep.

  Chapter 10

  Reid had been gone most of the summer. Basketball camp meant a whole new bunch of friends for him and experiences Tara would never be a part of. There was more and more of that happening, and unlike other things Tara had gotten desensitized to in her life, this hurt more not less each time.

  “You’re back,” she sang, jumping up into his arms as he hopped off his bike and dumped it on her grass. “I hate this stupid town
when you’re gone.” They lived in a run-down area west of Boston. Not busy enough to be the city, not quaint enough to be suburbia. The undesirables from downtown wandered in and out often enough for the streets to be dirty and occasionally dangerous, but not hip and busy enough to be fun.

  Reid squeezed her tightly, lifted her up, then planted her back to the ground. He felt entirely different. In four weeks he’d grown firmer in the shoulders and biceps. His shaggy hair was cut short and his oily skin was clear and clean. There was something else different about his face, but she couldn’t place it. She, on the other hand, was exactly the same. Her flat-as-a-board chest was pathetically unchanged. Tara’s height hadn’t broken the five-foot mark yet. She was a child, and he was quickly turning into a man. It was like they’d begun together on the starting line, spent some of the race jogging next to each other, but now she was just standing in his dust as he sprinted ahead. It hurt more than she’d ever admit out loud.

  “I can’t stay long,” he said as they sank into the porch swing, and she passed him a soda. “I’ve got plans.”

  “I don’t,” she pouted, pulling her legs up to her chest. “Who do you have plans with?”

  “You don’t know her.” He shrugged, taking a long swig of his drink. She finally figured out what was different about his face. He’d cleaned up his overgrown eyebrows, getting rid of all the stray hairs. It made him look clean and put together. Even better looking if that was possible.

  “Her?” she asked, sounding accusatory but quickly changing to a laugh. “A girl? Ooooo.”

  “Cut it out,” he said, shoving her with his shoulder. Not an uncommon move for him but this time it hurt. “Sorry,” he said, rubbing it gently and looking horrified that he’d caused her pain. “I didn’t mean it. That was too hard.”

  “I’m fine,” she said, rubbing the spot that was sure to turn to a bruise.

  “I keep forgetting how little you are.” He said it casually as though it wasn’t horribly mean to point out how stupidly small she was.

  “I’m exactly as little as I’ve always been. You need to start remembering how big you are. You don’t want to crush that new girlfriend.”

  “She’s not my girlfriend,” he said, pointing a cautionary finger at her. “You’re worse than the guys at camp. I couldn’t get a free second with Mary without one of them jumping in and causing a huge scene.”

  “She was at camp with you? I thought it was just for guys?” It would have been better if she could keep the heat of jealousy out of her voice, but being thirteen meant having almost no poker face.

  “Mary’s the coach’s daughter. She wasn’t supposed to hang out with us but we found ways to be around each other. Coach would have killed me if he found out. She lives two towns over, but we’re going to take the bus and meet in the middle at the mall.”

  Tara was desperate for the sentence to continue. For him to just add on: Want to come? But he didn’t. He just took more swigs off his sweaty and dripping soda can and acted like this wasn’t cruel. “So what have you been doing this summer while I was gone?”

  She shrugged and bit at her lip, angry at him and angry at herself for feeling so stupid. He wasn’t going to wake up one morning and be in love with her. That wasn’t how things worked in the real world. Being older than she was didn’t matter for a long time and then suddenly it did. It would have been easier to just face the truth, but a crush was like gravity. You could pretend they didn’t exist but when your ass hit the pavement with a thud and bang, you knew there was no escaping it. No changing it. No outrunning it.

  “Come on, you must have done something fun,” he encouraged, but she still didn’t answer. The tears forming in her eyes gave her away. “What’s the matter?”

  “It’s been a crappy summer so far,” she breathed out and held her head up to the sky. “My parents have been a nightmare. I just wish they’d leave. You know? I wish they’d just go and leave me here.”

  “Are they fighting again?” Reid asked, shifting to face her.

  “No,” she said in a half laugh half cry. “I wish they were. They’re so caught up in this church thing or spiritual enlightenment. I don’t even know what it is. Basically they just smoke weed all day and preach. They sound like lunatics now. I liked it better when they hated each other. Now they’ve combined their crazy behind one cause. This one guy is trying to get them to move to some commune in California. I hope they go. They’re never here anymore anyway. I’m alone all the time. They don’t buy food or anything.”

  “Don’t say that. If they go you’ll have to go too.” The fear in Reid’s eyes reminded her for a second that he did care deeply for her. Maybe he wasn’t going to lean across the swing and kiss her. Maybe he’d never see her that way. But it didn’t diminish the fact that he always came through for her.

  “I’m not going to live on a commune,” she said, wiping at the stray tears. “I’m serious. I have an aunt in New Hampshire. She has this cabin on a lake. I’ll go live there. I know she’d let me.”

  “You can’t leave,” he said, dismissing the idea with a shake of his head.

  “What do you care? You’ve got Mary.” Tara rolled her eyes and made a funny face at him, levity in this dark moment of reality.

  “Hey,” he said, not taking the bait and allowing her to joke this off. “I don’t care who I date or what happens, we’re going to be friends for life. Don’t you believe that?”

  “Yeah,” she sniffled, trying to convince him she agreed. It wasn’t like she wanted their friendship to be over. But she knew it would end. She didn’t believe it would happen all at once. It would take the natural course of a campfire. Roaring, dwindling, flickering, and dying out. Forgotten.

  “I’ll cancel my thing with Mary. I’ll call her house before she leaves. Can I use your kitchen phone?”

  “Don’t do that,” she insisted. “I’m fine. My parents are out for the rest of the night. Some sleepover retreat thing. There’s a monster marathon on tonight. I’ll be fine.”

  “You hate those movies. They scare the hell out of you. I always force you to watch them.” He tipped his head to the side and raised a skeptical brow in her direction.

  “Things change,” she shrugged as she hopped up off the porch swing. “Enjoy your date,” she smirked, pulling open the screen door and heading into the black hole that was her house. The smell of stale marijuana smoke and rotting dishes instantly clouded around her.

  “Grab your bike,” he said, smooshing his face against the screen door. “We’ll watch it at my place. My mom will order pizza . . . but no pineapple. That’s so gross.”

  “Go on your date,” she protested, laughing as he pushed his nose up against the screen impersonating a pig.

  “Get your bike,” he said and then oinked loudly.

  “What are you going to tell Mary?” she asked, with a sigh.

  “I’ll tell her the truth. My best friend needed me.” He pulled the screen door open and waited for her to make a move toward him. When she hesitated he stepped inside, grabbed her by the arm, and pulled her back to the porch. “Some things change, Tara, but not everything. We’re not going to change.”

  Chapter 11

  Reid felt like a piece of garbage. Bringing up the moment of their past that had pulled them apart was something that should have been handled tactfully. With kid gloves and a calming voice. He knew better than to bring it up in the heat of the moment the way he had. That seemed to be the theme since Tara had plowed her way back into his life. Reid knew better than to take on a client in Tara’s situation. He knew better than to expedite the trial date. He knew better than to table and push away all his other clients for someone who couldn’t afford a tank of gas let alone an hour of his legal fees. But this was Tara.

  Over the years he’d let his mind water down his memories, smoothing them out like a rock rolling in waves, tide after tide. It took off all the edges, all the rough spots that mattered and left a sanitized version of what their friendship had bee
n. The more years that passed between the last time he’d seen her, the easier it was to call her just a friend he had when he was young. Just a kid from his neighborhood. Just some girl he used to know.

  Today when she was a couple feet away from him, and her brows shot up the way they used to when they were kids arguing over something dumb, the lies he told himself grew hollow. Tara had been an important part of him and perhaps the most loyal person he’d ever met.

  But what did that really change about the here and now? There was still a child who had been left in the cold. There was still a needle in her arm. She’d brought these things upon herself, and it wasn’t for him to rescue her. It was different when they were kids. He saw the glow of innocence around her, the bubble that he never wanted to see popped. Like a knight in battle he took a silent oath to try to keep her exactly how she was. Little. Safe. Happy. But a long time ago he failed, and it was a bell he couldn’t unring.

  His phone rang and the noise reverberated off the walls of his sparsely decorated apartment. Reid had searched for months to find a rental that offered the perfect combination of solitude and ease. The landlord lived in Florida and as long as the rent check arrived Reid never had to hear from the guy. He'd moved in a minimal amount of furniture because he was a cause and effect kind of guy. Don't want to cook? Don't buy pans. Don't want to have company? Don’t have food. Or drinks. Or anything remotely welcoming.

  "Hey, Willow," he said flatly, answering his phone reluctantly. He would have preferred to send it to voice mail but Willow deserved his attention.

  "I know it's late," Willow apologized. "I just wanted a chance to talk with you privately."

  "I figured you'd call. Actually I expected you to be knocking on my door. You must be getting lazy in your old age."

  "I'm out front."

  He peeked out through the wood shutters and laughed. Hanging up the phone he pulled open the door and gave her a defeated little grin. "Are you regretting your choice to help?"