by Karen Rock
“No. No, thanks.”
With her nerves making her insides jump, Sofia was sure she wouldn’t be able to keep anything down. A moment later, the lawyer, a Mr. Sloan, Esq., finished relaying the drink order to his secretary, folded his arms against his keg of a stomach and leaned back in his chair.
“Joy. Would you care to begin?” he asked.
“Thanks, but if you don’t mind, I’m not sure I can explain it as well as you.”
“Well, that’s kind of you to say. I’ll do my best. James, your mother has requested that we reopen Jesse’s estate.”
James’s chair creaked as he leaned forward. “Why’s that?”
Sofia cast a quick glance at Joy, who reached out, without turning, and squeezed her cold hand.
“It’s my understanding your family has located Jesse’s heir.”
Sofia’s mouth dried right up. She couldn’t swallow if she wanted to. In fact, suddenly, she felt as though she might be sick. What did this have to do with Javi?
James met her eyes briefly, then whipped his head back. “Yes. My nephew, Javi.”
At that moment, a light knock sounded on the door and Mr. Sloan called out permission to enter. The secretary, a thin, bespectacled man with a too-short tie, whisked inside bearing a tray. Steam curled from the ceramic cups and a honey-lemon aroma made her breathe deep.
“Over there, Pete. Thanks.”
She pressed her shaking lips together, in an agony of waiting as Joy and Mr. Sloan fixed their tea, then settled back in their chairs.
Two sips and a long ahhhhhh later, Mr. Sloan set down his mug and steepled his thick fingers on the desk.
“Given this new information, we need to reevaluate the distribution of Jesse’s assets.”
James stared at him and silence fell, thick and heavy. It lined her throat so she felt as if she might choke a little. What assets? Like her, Jesse had never been able to hold a job for long. Was this about a coin collection from when he was a kid or something?
“I agree,” James said. He crossed his arms over his chest.
“Good to hear.” Mr. Sloan paused and beamed so hard at Joy she squirmed a bit and shuffled her navy heels beneath her chair. “Joy was worried you might have some objections.”
“To...” James frowned and scratched his cheek.
“Jesse’s share in the ranch, the ten percent each of your father’s descendants inherited when he passed, reverted to your mother on his death. We’d like to transfer those shares into a trust for Javi if none of the children object. Joy plans on talking to the rest of your siblings tonight at dinner, but she felt—” He spread his hands and a tight smile wrestled with the heavy flesh of his face. “Well, she felt that you might have the most questions.”
The room seemed to spin around Sofia and black crept in on the edges of her vision. Joy’s hand pressed hers again and Sofia squeezed her eyes shut, sure she might faint as she tried wrapping her head around this. Javi. Heir to a portion of a huge cattle ranch. It was everything she’d ever wanted for him. All that she wished she could give him...only...she could never stay here.
How could he have it without her?
How could she stay if it only kept her bogged down in her past?
A future, one that Javi inhabited without her, rose in her mind, threatening. She could not—would not—ever be separated from her child. But even if he came with her to Portland as planned, which he would, he’d always have a tie here to Cade Ranch. It was a world she couldn’t be a part of, and one day, he’d leave her to return to it.
If she tried keeping him from it, he’d only resent her. He wouldn’t be proud of her the way she needed him to be...though he would be proud of being a Cade. Was that more important?
It was all she could do not to bury her aching head in her hands.
James shifted beside her. “So how does this work?”
“Your mother will relinquish Jesse’s shares and they’ll revert into a trust I’ll create for Javi.”
“After my surgery, I started thinking how I won’t be around forever. I want to make things right for Javi, in case anything happened to me,” Joy said.
“Nothing’s happening to you, Ma,” James said, firm, then, “And who will be the trustee?”
“We were thinking.” The lawyer tugged at his bow tie a bit. “We were thinking that—”
“I want Sofia to be the trustee,” Joy interrupted.
At James’s harsh intake of air, she released Sofia’s hand and angled around in her chair. Sofia froze in place. Even her lungs locked up and the blood in her veins seized.
Trustee? It sounded daunting. Way, way over her head and ability.
Who was she after all? She ran her fingers over the ridged track marks on her arm. A former addict, a convicted felon, a high school dropout. Not member-of-the-board material.
“Absolutely not,” James thundered. “What experience does she have with a trust like this? We’re talking shares in the ranch. Sitting in on board meetings. Voting on business decisions.”
Sofia opened her mouth to agree but something in the absolute terms he used nettled her. Hadn’t that been the way her father, her teachers, her ex-employers always talked about her, over her, as if she was of no consequence, as if she hadn’t any ability to control anything or be responsible for anyone, least of all herself?
“Why don’t we hear what Sofia has to say?” Joy prompted.
Sofia stared down at her clasped hands. She’d be in way over her head at those meetings. What if she messed things up for Javi and made bad decisions that affected his inheritance?
“I might not be the best choice since I’ll be leaving for Portland in a few weeks.”
“You don’t have to live in the vicinity to serve as trustee,” Mr. Sloan asserted.
“And I think you’d be a fine addition to our family board meetings.” Joy cocked her head. “A different point of view. When you leave, we can conference call you in.”
James stood. “I’m formally submitting my name for consideration as trustee.”
“We’re hoping to avoid going to court.”
“If you’re serious about that, then appoint me. Javi’s future hinges on how this trust is handled. Not only that, with Sofia as a voting member of our board, we’d be giving an outsider input into our family business.”
Hurt swept through Sofia. She would always be the outsider looking in with the Cades. Yet Javi was a Cade, and they were family. As his mom, she had as much motivation to ensure his best interest as the Cades. She was Javi’s family and that mattered, too.
“Sofia?” Joy asked gently. “What are your thoughts?”
She locked her shaking knees, stood and extended her hand to Mr. Sloan. “I accept.”
* * *
THE SHARP EDGE of a cracked plastic chair dug into Sofia’s spine later that night. Sitting up straight when she wanted to slouch, she kept her eyes on her lap. She didn’t look up as others shuffled into the NA meeting and took seats in the arranged circle.
A light smattering of chitchat rose. An artificial Christmas tree, bedecked in red and white lights, twinkled in the corner. The smell of freshly brewed coffee filled the warm space, the atmosphere thick and humid despite the snow that had started falling when she and James drove into Carbondale after dinner.
Was he waiting outside like her personal parole officer?
It bugged her that he hadn’t trusted her to drive herself, but she hadn’t wanted to argue in front of Javi. Keeping him in the dark about her whereabouts right now was most important. She didn’t like lying to him, and it irked her how James had put her in this position with his crazy insistence that she attend tonight. This meeting was a complete waste of time. She’d managed to stay sober for six years without NA meetings. Once she escaped to Portland, she would finall
y erase this bad chapter in her life for good.
Now she’d have to listen to everyone else’s issues and try really, really hard not to think of her own past.
“Is this seat taken?” someone asked beside her. Someone male. Young. Maybe a teen, given the crack in his voice. Sofia slid her eyes to the left and nodded, eyeing the clean-cut kid who looked like he should be in a college interview, not here with the rest of life’s losers.
He wore a white-and-blue-striped shirt that had sleeves rolled up to his elbows. It tucked into a pair of khaki pants. The creases looked so sharp that she guessed they were newly bought, maybe for this occasion. Only a varsity letterman jacket slung over one shoulder and his shoes, bright red basketball sneakers, gave a nod to his age. They shuffled slightly and she shrugged.
“Take it.”
“Thanks.”
“I’m Sofia.”
“Riker.”
He flung himself into the chair, then slid down so far his long legs jutted nearly halfway into the circle. He inserted wireless earbuds, crammed his phone in his pocket and gave her a sheepish, lopsided smile when he caught her stare. Despite her nerves, she smiled back. He looked so young yet so bored. As if he’d already fast-forwarded through his life, saw how it ended and was now just skimming over the highlights.
Riker’s eyes closed and he rested his chin on his chest. If only she could tune out like that. She certainly had plenty else to focus on, given what had happened in the attorney’s office. It still hadn’t fully hit her yet. Javi’s future was secured. He’d never be homeless again, now that he’d own a part of Cade Ranch. And she, at least until the judge heard the case that James demanded, was his trustee.
“Sorry, everyone,” said a tall African American man, waving his phone. “That was Mr. Sampson saying he has car trouble and won’t be attending tonight’s meeting.”
He slid his chair a bit to the left, then sat. “First of all, I want to thank everyone for coming out tonight. The weather isn’t looking great, and I appreciate your commitment to this program.”
Sofia dropped her gaze when his eyes landed on her.
“My name’s Anthony and I’ll be leading the group for the next few weeks.”
“Did Kim have her baby?” someone asked, a wire-thin man with teeth too large for his lips to cover.
“A little girl on Wednesday. She says hi and she sent pictures you can look at on my cell.” Anthony passed his phone to the person on his right.
“Now. Kim and I don’t do things the same way, but we still follow the principles of the twelve-step program, and I’m going to be here for you during the season. As many of you know, this can be the hardest time of all for addiction.”
A chorus of yeses rose.
“First,” Anthony said, “I’m going to tell you a little about myself so we can get comfortable with each other.”
Sofia arched her back slightly, trying to escape the dig of her cracked chair. Comfortable? There wasn’t a chance of that happening tonight.
Anthony spread his hands wide and his open, unassuming expression had her staring straight at him again. “You’re looking at a man that used to be very successful at one time. I started off as a laborer. Moved up to being a contractor and then a developer, building houses, making other people’s dreams come true. So. You know. Along with that, I started making good money. Six-figure income. Had me a beautiful wife. Four beautiful sons. I thought I was untouchable. Building houses. Making my family’s dreams come true. And with all that success, I started ego-tripping. And within that ego-tripping, I got introduced to crack. You know...you would figure that after all that hard work that I had put in to become a successful businessman that I wouldn’t have gotten involved with drugs. Right?”
Several of the members nodded slowly.
“Just goes to show,” Anthony continued with a shake of his head. “Happens to anybody.”
Not her, Sofia vowed to herself. Never ever again. She didn’t need this meeting to know that.
Anthony leaned forward and pressed his hands into his knees. “When I tried crack the very first time, it was like no experience I’d ever had. Man. I showed that thing more love than I gave my family.”
Sofia thought of her father. He’d never been particularly interested in her love, only her obedience. If he’d wanted affection, would she have given it? Did she love her dad?
An ache in her heart whispered the answer.
Once. She’d clung to him as a child and tried to please him until years later, she’d learned there was no pleasing him. She’d realized that she would always be more of a disappointment than a daughter, a bitter replacement for the woman he’d truly loved and lost, so she’d given up.
When she’d stolen money from a neighbor and been sentenced to a week in jail and six months on house arrest, he’d made his position clear by refusing to let her come home again. She’d finished her sentence in juvie, then hit the streets, completely on her own, with heroin the only escape, the only love in her life.
And maybe that had been better. No one to disappoint except herself...and now Javi. A breath she hadn’t known she held whistled through her tight lips. She couldn’t mess up. Not as a mom and now not as trustee to his inheritance. Maybe James had a point and she should just let him take over. Only not as parent...not a guardian...
“Didn’t plan on my wife leaving with our four kids.” She tuned back in and heard Anthony say, “It got so bad. So bad. That me, the guy who was building homes for other people... I became homeless. Wife gone. Kids gone. Income gone.” He counted on his fingers.
A strong wind rattled the windowpanes to her right. When she glanced at the dark glass, her pale, pinched face stared back at her. She recognized the reflection as the one she’d glimpsed in storefronts while she’d walked the streets, obsessed with getting her next fix, oblivious to the weather, to anything but finding more pills. But that person didn’t exist any longer. So why was she still here, right here in that window? Sofia whirled back around.
“Home gone. Car gone. Everything. Just gone.” Anthony’s voice rose in a crescendo. “It got real crazy. You know? I’m thankful that God didn’t let me die out there that way. That wasn’t His will. But without pain there is no gain. I also thank God for this NA program. It constantly teaches me how to be honest with myself and be okay with expressing to you what needs to be talked about.”
Sofia dug her nails into her palms. She wasn’t okay with talking about it and couldn’t understand this compulsion to rehash the past. Wasn’t it far worse to wallow in ancient history than to simply let it go and step away, clean and free?
Anthony’s gaze settled on her. “I know some of you are new. It might be a little difficult and that’s why I wanted to open up and share some of the struggles I’ve been through. So once again, I want to thank y’all for coming out. Thank you for letting me share.”
Sofia joined the other members in saying “Thank you” or “Thank you for sharing.”
Silence fell and a woman who looked to be ten or so years older than Sofia waved. She wore a pretty yellow shirt that flowed over a pregnant belly and her fine brown hair was tucked behind ears glinting with small diamond studs.
“Good evening, everybody. My name is Leigh and I’m an addict.”
Sofia blinked at her. Leigh could have been a local librarian. A bake-off contestant. PTA president. Never would she have thought addict if she’d met Leigh on the street. And hearing her call herself an addict was jarring. There had to be a better term for people who’d put it behind them.
“Hey, Leigh.”
“What’s up, Leigh?”
“Good to see you, Leigh.”
Leigh waited a moment for the group to quiet, then said, “Sex, cocaine, alcohol are my drugs of choice. You know, I typically use the same excuse for why I did what I did—I didn’t
have a mother or any type of female figure around as an example. But I’m not going to let the anger that sometimes rises up inside me, or the hole in my soul, control me any longer.”
Sofia stared. Those seemed like good, reasonable excuses for why Leigh had turned to drugs. In fact, they weren’t all that different from her own.
Leigh rested her hands on her belly. “Today I’m not going to let it win. I am going to accept the fact that I made those choices. I took those drugs. And I am a woman and a role model to myself and this little one.” She patted her bump. “Thank y’all for letting me share.”
“Thanks for sharing,” Sofia murmured along with the rest of the group, her mind in a whirl.
What good was this kind of therapy if they dismissed the real reasons that drove them to take drugs? Without understanding triggers, like her father’s rigid ways, you couldn’t avoid them or put them in perspective. She was glad she hadn’t come to NA meetings all these years. It would have been a waste of time. Clearly.
She glanced at the teenage boy and caught his smirk and eye roll, but somehow couldn’t return it. Sure. This was lame. But a part of her saw that it was also really, really brave. She couldn’t dismiss it totally, as much as she wished she were anywhere else.
“Hello, everybody,” said an elderly woman across from her. With her neatly clipped gray hair and the pearls around her neck, she looked ready for a church social, not an NA meeting. Sofia tried hiding her surprise when the woman smiled directly at her.
“I’m Pam, and I’m an addict.”
The group greeted her.
“About five years ago, I had a hip replaced. The doctor sent me home with hydrocodone. Said I could take as much as I needed for pain and to call him for a refill when I needed it. Anytime.”
She paused and her smile revealed two deep dimples. A round of ironic laughter circled the room and Sofia nearly joined in. A prescription-happy doctor was an addict’s best friend and worst enemy. She’d taken advantage of enough to know, starting with a legitimate sprained ankle where she’d begged for pain pills long after the bruising and swelling had disappeared. It was one of several “injuries” she’d faked for months at a time to get more pills.