Lisa waved a hand. “Water under the bridge, as Dad would say.”
“Actually, I had my tonsils out when I was five,” Ivan added.
“But he’s younger than you,” I continued, smiling now, too. “You cradle robber.”
“Grow up, Josh, it’s by six months.” She turned to Ivan. “Aren’t you going to say anything else? Feel free to jump in anytime.”
He held up his hands, shaking his head. “You’re kidding, right? I know you two well enough not to get in the middle.”
“Anyway,” I said. “And spare me the details, obviously, but how long have you two been...carrying on?”
“Carrying on?” Lisa harrumphed. “Well, Dad, his fingernails are clean and I promise you his intentions were never honorable and—”
“A few months,” Ivan said, and I couldn’t help noticing the way he looked at her, all gooey-eyed and...in love. It wasn’t an expression I’d associated with him and a woman before. He’d had a few girlfriends in the time I’d known him, sure, but none he’d raved about. I probably had a jar of strawberry jam in my fridge longer than he’d dated anyone. But he was going to be a dad, and my sister—the woman who’d stated she’d never have kids and hell would freeze over first, which was impossible because of global warming—a mom. It was a good thing she’d usually ended her antichild speeches with, “I love Logan, though. He’s the best.”
“You’ve been going out for a few months?” I said, finally registering Ivan’s words. “Why are you only telling me now? I could’ve done with some good news.”
Lisa said, “We weren’t sure what you’d think, so—”
“What do you mean? I think it’s fantastic. Congratulations.” I hugged Lisa, then Ivan. “Honestly, two of my favorite people getting together...and having a baby? Wow.”
“Thanks,” Lisa said. “It just kind of happened, you know?”
“We ran into each other at a bar one night,” Ivan said, squeezing Lisa’s hand. “And...well...I didn’t go home for three days because we were—”
“I don’t need to hear this,” I said, stuffing my fingers in my ears.
Lisa laughed and pulled my hands down. “Because we were talking so much, you chump. Turns out we have more in common than we thought.”
“I’ve been telling you that for years,” I said. “Still, you could’ve said something.”
“We had to be sure it wasn’t a fling,” Lisa said, “or it might’ve got...weird.”
“Her idea.” Ivan pointed at my sister. “And I supported it, of course. But then, well—” he put his hand on her still pancake-flat stomach, and she smiled “—surprise.”
“Plus it’ll be obvious in a few months,” Lisa said. “Although I’m not sure you’d notice, because I’ve been here ten minutes and you still haven’t asked me about this.” She held up her left hand and wiggled her fingers. “We’re engaged!”
“Engaged?” If my mouth opened any wider, it would have split my face in half. “You’re having a kid? And getting married? That’s...fantastic.”
“I know,” Lisa said. “I’m still freaking out about it all—”
“We both are,” Ivan said. “I’ve had a secret crush on Lisa forever—”
“You never told me,” I said.
“Bro code says sisters are off-limits,” Ivan said. “But why do you think I’ve been hanging out with you all this time?”
“Very funny.” I took in their happy faces, feeling envious and immediately hating myself for it. “I wish I could tell Grace. She’d be pumped,” I said, and Lisa smiled, gave me a hard squeeze. “Wait until we tell Logan. He’ll freak out. He wished for a baby brother or sister almost as much as a dog, so a cousin will be brilliant.”
“Before we tell him,” Ivan said, “I want to ask if you’ll be my best man.”
“And,” Lisa added before I could answer, “will you be the godfather? Don’t even think about saying no. Believe me, we need your expertise. I’ve been reading up about this baby lark, and I tell you, I’m the one freaking out. Ivan hides his panic well, but he isn’t such a stoic Scandinavian when he’s reading What to Expect When You’re Expecting, let me tell you. So, will you, Josh, please?”
I held my hands up in surrender. “Of course I will, I’d love to. Yes to both. Have you already set a date? Before child or after child?”
“After,” Ivan said.
“Ivan says we should get married here, but I want the wedding in the Bahamas, on a beach,” Lisa said. “But he’s a stick-in-the-mud and thinks it’s much easier to stay local.”
“It is,” Ivan said. “For everyone.”
“Well, it’ll only be a few friends,” Lisa said. “We’d have the christening there, too. And before you say anything, Josh, I’d pay for both you and Logan.” She put her hand in front of me like a stop sign. “Don’t even think about arguing, Joshua Stuart Andersen, because you’ll lose.”
I opened my mouth, but all my words scuttled down the back of my throat.
“You alright there, baby brother?” Lisa patted my shoulder.
“Uh, yeah.” I coughed, blinked a few times. “I never argue when you use my middle name, and a trip to the Bahamas sounds fantastic. Really fantastic.”
“Hold on, guys,” Ivan said. “We haven’t decided anything and I think—”
“I think you’re overruled.” Lisa laughed before turning back to me. “Don’t worry, I’ll make him think it was his idea in the first place. But you’re okay with me paying for you?”
“Well...I could put up a fight and pretend to be too proud to accept,” I said, “but every man has his price. And I guess you’ve found mine.”
“See?” Lisa grinned at Ivan. “I told you he’d say yes.”
As I watched my sister beam at me, I hoped she’d win the case about where to get married because a trip to the Bahamas couldn’t come soon enough. I imagined tearing down the beach with Logan, whooping as we jumped in and out of the waves. We’d flop down on our towels, have ice-cold drinks and authentic Caribbean food, we’d... My good mood and smile vanished as if washed away by the tide.
Lisa must have noticed, because she leaned in. “What’s wrong?”
“Logan needs a passport,” I said quietly.
“That’s why we’d have the wedding after the baby comes,” Lisa said. “You’ll have tons of time to apply and—”
“You don’t understand,” I said. “I, uh, there’s trouble with the birth certificate.”
“What kind of trouble?” Ivan said, his back straight.
I took a deep breath and told them about my conversation with Harlan and the letter from Vital Records, but still left out the bag of photos, the cryptic note and the tax returns. I couldn’t go there yet. Not yet.
Lisa stared at me. “But that’s so strange,” she said as Ivan nodded, his frown deeper than hers. “It’s got to be some kind of mix-up, it has to be. Honestly, I wish you two had sorted this all out before—”
“So do I, believe me, but you know how protective Grace was of Logan,” I said. “And not just Logan, of herself, too. I think that’s the reason why she wouldn’t marry me. She worried I’d complicate things if we got hitched and I left.”
“What are you going to do?” Ivan said. “What can I do?”
I checked over my shoulder, made sure Logan hadn’t wandered up behind me, then lowered my voice, anyway. “I honestly don’t know, but I keep wondering when someone from Child Protective Services is going to show up and take him away.”
“Harlan said that wouldn’t happen,” Lisa said. “And he’s right. Anybody with a brain cell can tell how much you love Logan. Where else would he go?”
“What about Grace’s parents?” Ivan said. “Still no luck?”
“No, although to be honest with everything that’s going on, I don’t really have the courage to—” I noticed Lisa
biting her thumbnail. “What?” She shook her head so I glanced at Ivan, but he looked clueless, too. I threw my hands in the air. “Out with it, sis. I don’t have the energy to guess.”
Lisa took a deep breath. “Well, doesn’t it seem strange how Grace loved you so much, but wouldn’t even talk about getting married?”
“Plenty of people don’t—”
“Or how she never really told you anything about Logan’s dad?”
Ivan spoke but didn’t get very far. “Lisa, I don’t—”
She held up a hand. “And you never met her parents.”
“What exactly are you getting at?” I said. “You know what happened. She had a despicable family, a one-hour stand and trust issues. Sorry, but what’s hard to understand?”
I could tell Lisa was treading carefully, as if she were on a thirty-foot-high tightrope with a venomous snake pit on one side, and a pride of famished lions on the other. I also knew if she was about to say something important, she’d have thought it through, gone over it in her head countless times. My sister’s idea of spontaneity meant choosing between two movies after reading every single review on Rotten Tomatoes.
“Grace kept a lot of things close to her chest. Far more than most.” She sat back in her chair with the expression of a poker player laying down the winning hand.
“That’s a shitty comment to make,” I said.
“I agree,” Ivan said, ignoring my sister’s death stares. “I knew Grace before either of you, and I didn’t find her secretive.”
“Course you didn’t,” Lisa said with a sigh.
“I loved her,” I said. “Secretive or not, I loved her.”
“More than life itself, you told me a million times.” Lisa rubbed my arm in an unmistakable conciliatory gesture, but I shook her off. “I’m sorry, Josh, I shouldn’t have said anything. Look, how about we get Logan and tell him our news?”
“I’ll go,” I whispered and walked out of the kitchen, pulling the door shut behind me. I didn’t want them to see me in the hallway, resting my head against the wall as I tried to get it together. Because Lisa had managed to articulate all the things I’d barely dared to think about, let alone had the guts to say out loud.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
I woke up an hour before my alarm went off, one of Lisa’s comments from the previous evening crashing around my brain like a Roller Derby team. She’d talked about registering their baby for day care, how she’d already looked into it because they wanted the best spot possible.
If I was being completely honest, I hadn’t actively listened, made an off-the-cuff remark about rich people problems, which prompted Lisa to tell me to, quote, “Bugger right off.” But as soon as I opened my eyes and remembered the conversation, I immediately thought about how Grace had signed Logan up for school, gone there alone despite my offer to come. Consequently, a visit to Winterhurst Elementary became my new, burning, priority.
I sent Ronnie a text, saying I might be a few minutes late. It was only five thirty, but his reply—A FEW is fine—was instant. Logan and I wouldn’t need to leave for ages, ample time and opportunity to finally bring up what was going on with Dylan, but, I decided, I’d pick the moment carefully, make sure he didn’t have the chance to storm off and hide out in his bedroom.
Once we were settled in the truck I put the radio on low, hummed along to a few bars of the Sam Hunt song, waiting for Logan to join in. I felt like the Child Catcher from Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, lulling him into a false sense of security like that. All I needed was the hat, bow tie and net, maybe the oversize nose. Apparently Logan was onto me, as well. When I glanced in the rearview mirror, I caught him staring at me, the worry in his eyes as plain as the zigzag scar on his forehead, the one he’d earned by driving his Bobby Car into a table when he was three.
“I heard there were problems at school yesterday,” I said.
Logan stared out of the window. “I thought Mr. Shapran forgot to call you.”
“He told me you’ve been picking on Dylan, not the other way around. Is that true?”
“Yes,” Logan whispered.
“Why?” I said, but he looked away. “Can you tell me what the fight with Dylan was about yesterday? How did it start?”
“Pablo,” Logan answered, and when I didn’t reply he added, “Because he’s mean.”
“Pablo’s mean? Okay...how so?”
“He just is.”
“I’m afraid you’re going to have to do better than that, kiddo. Talk to me, please. It’s the only way I can help. Let’s figure this out together.”
Logan crossed his arms. “He said I’m a cast out.”
“An outcast?”
“Yeah. An outcast. He said I don’t have any real parents.”
Trying very hard to keep my voice under control, I said, “Did Dylan say it, too? Is that why you tripped him?” A shake of the head. “Then why?”
Logan mumbled something I couldn’t make out, and when I asked him to repeat it he said, “He’s small. I knew I’d win.”
I let that sink in for a minute. “Have you been mean to Dylan when someone else has been mean to you?” A guilty look and a slight nod. “And how does it make you feel when someone isn’t nice to you?”
“Bad,” Logan whispered.
“Exactly. You can’t go around hurting people, especially not the ones who haven’t done anything—”
“But—”
“No, Logan. It’s wrong.”
“But Pablo—”
“He’s wrong, too. About everything. First of all, he shouldn’t call you names. Second, you’re not an outcast because that’s someone who’s been rejected by everybody else. Someone nobody wants around. Am I making sense?” I said, making myself calm down by exhaling quietly and counting to five. “But you have friends. Your teachers like you—”
“Mr. Shapran does, he’s nice.”
“—and you’ve got me.” I smiled at him. “Forever and ever, remember? We’re PB and J. Mac and cheese. Ketchup and fries. Crumpets and—”
“But what if you die, too?” Logan’s voice went up a few notches. “Where will I go?”
Another glance was all I needed to see the tension etched on his face. There was no point trying to make light of his concern because it bothered me, too. For the next twenty years I could hardly avoid taking any and all risks, roll myself up in a hundred layers of Bubble Wrap, or find a way for both of us to hibernate.
“I’ll speak to Aunt Lisa about it, okay? Sort something out so you don’t worry,” I said, thinking I’d ask Harlan to take care of it once we’d figured out the rest. “And I’ll talk to Mr. Shapran about Pablo. In the meantime, I want you to apologize to Dylan when you get to class.”
“I already did.” Logan put his head down, hunched his shoulders.
“Well, saying sorry again isn’t going to hurt anyone. Maybe you can be friends from now on? Look at Ivan and Aunt Lisa. They didn’t like each other much and now they’re getting married.” Although Logan nodded, I think it was more to appease me, because he still didn’t look convinced by the time we pulled up at the school.
“Josh, Logan, good morning.” Vickey Longo greeted us with her trademark smile, wearing a wine-colored sweater vest, matching pleated skirt and glasses on a gold chain. “How are you, dear?” she continued once I’d said goodbye to Logan and he’d sped off to class.
I stuffed my hands in my pockets and head-bobbed. “I’m fine.”
“Had enough of people asking you how you’re coping yet? Especially when they do this...” She tilted her head to one side, let the corners of her mouth drop.
“Would it be rude to say yes? Everyone means well, you know?”
“They do. And when it stopped about two years after my husband died, I suddenly realized I missed it, let me tell you.” She waved me into her tiny little office. Vickey had a thin
g for rabbit decor. Pictures and calendars, ornaments and stuffed animals, half a dozen homemade toilet-roll bunnies, gifts from the students she’d watched grow up. “The thing is,” she continued as we sat down, “most of us aren’t taught how to handle grief, or those who are grieving. We all muddle along, hoping to get it right.”
“And that it won’t happen to us.”
“How true... I know it’s not much help, but we all miss Grace. Every single one of us.” We sat in silence, save for the ticking of her Bugs Bunny clock on the wall, both of us grappling with our emotions for a moment until she spoke again. “How can I help you today, Josh?”
“I’m applying for legal guardianship for Logan.”
“Oh, how wonderful.”
“Yes, it really is. We’re both excited.” I made sure I injected plenty of enthusiasm. No problems here, Vickey, no trouble at all. “But I’m having trouble finding his—”
“Birth certificate?” Vickey said with a knowing smile.
“I take it I’m not the first person to ask. It would really help if you had a copy.”
“You’d be surprised at how often those things sprout legs. Happens all the time. Now, let’s see.” She walked over to her brown filing cabinet, pulled open a drawer, her lips moving as she silently read the labels on the files. “Ah, here we go.” She removed a beige folder and flicked through the pages, went through them again, turning each one, slowly. “How strange. I should have a copy right here...but I only have Logan’s vaccination records from Dr. Minhas.”
“But wouldn’t Grace have needed the birth certificate to register Logan?”
“Normally, yes,” Vickey said. “But we accept vaccination records, although I always leave myself a note to follow up for the birth certificate. Why wouldn’t I have done that?” She bit down on the tip of her glasses. “Let me check a few other files, make sure I didn’t put it somewhere by accident, although I can’t imagine so.”
“Okay, thanks,” I said, trying to disguise the worry gnawing at my bones.
“I’ll call you if I find anything. I suppose you could ask Dr. Minhas if they have a copy. You never know.” She continued rattling off suggestions, saying I should call the hospital where he was born, or maybe city hall, and I thanked her politely for her brilliant ideas.
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