Keeping Claudia (Toby & Claudia Book 2)

by Suzanne McKenna Link

  “Is Felicia back at the house?” The bawdy platinum blonde and I had nothing in common except our fondness for Dylan’s uncle.

  Toby shook his head. “Just me and the little man. I’m taking him up to see Al.”

  I blinked. “You’re going to Otisville?”

  “Yup. Al doesn’t get to see Dylan too often,” Toby said. “Felicia took him up a few times, but now that she’s engaged, her fiancée doesn’t want her going back so she’s letting me take him.”

  “I was supposed to go with you today.” Emotion thickened my throat. It was the weekend—the one we’d planned, so I could meet his brother before we got married.

  “Oh, that’s right.” Toby dismissed it with shrug. “We’re getting on the road as soon as I get Dylan home and fed, so I gotta get going.”

  With his food items tucked under one arm, Toby took Dylan’s hand and started toward the front of the store.

  “Say bye,” he told Dylan, but the boy gazed back at me, refusing to budge.

  “Corda come?”

  “Corda?” Toby looked puzzled.

  A smile stretched across my face. “I think I’m Corda, Toadee.”

  Toby gaze snapped to me and back to his nephew. “Oh, no, little man, I’m sure she’s too busy.”

  I jumped aboard, energized by the idea. “But I’m not. I can help you with his breakfast or lunch. Or whatever.”

  “I don’t really—”

  “I haven’t seen Bernie in weeks. I’ll only stay a few minutes,” I cajoled.

  He took a deep breath before answering. “Okay. When you’re done shopping, meet us back at the house.”

  As soon as they were out of sight, I fist-pumped the air and pulled out my cell to call my father.

  “Sorry, Dad,” I said when he answered. “Change of plans. I’ll make you French toast next weekend. Also, would you ask Uncle Vinny to stay a little longer?”

  I pulled up in front of the house, and stared slack-jawed at the sign posted on the front lawn:

  ‘FOR SALE.’

  He was selling the house.

  The news rode heavily on me. I wasn’t even entitled to know about something so important in his life like the sale of his house.

  I stepped onto the porch where Toby waited, holding open the new full-view glass storm door for me. Inside, the stairway had had makeover and the whole foyer, too. Gone was the outdated mauve carpeting. The early morning sun gleamed off the lustered shine of the varnished wooden staircase, and the soft linen tinted walls breathed new life into the once tired old home.

  “Wow, the house looks great,” I commented watching Toby slip Dylan into a booster seat at the kitchen table like he’d been doing it for ages.

  “Thanks. Put some milk in this. Only about half full.” Toby pushed a red sippy cup at me and then dumped a pile of cereal rings in front of Dylan. “This should hold you while I make your sandwich, little man.”

  At the counter, Toby spread peanut butter and jelly on slices of bread while I poured milk and put the sippy cup in front of Dylan.

  “Gank you!” the little boy sang, grabbing for it.

  I leaned back against the counter to watch Toby making the sandwich, cutting it into small pieces before giving it to his nephew. He appeared so at ease, a natural in the roll of babysitter, and I wanted so bad to tell him how sweet he was with Dylan. But that would be like opening my heart to him, and I couldn’t go there. I wouldn’t make it through the confession dry-eyed.

  “I have to get some stuff together for our trip. Can you keep an eye on the little man for a couple of minutes?” he asked, wiping his hands.

  “Of course,” I said.

  He hesitated, looking at me, and then with a nod, left the kitchen.

  I thought how, just a few months ago, neither of us would’ve ever left a room without brushing a kiss on the other, like we couldn’t bear to leave without doing so. Touching, kissing, and loving each other freely had been habitual, and yet, that practice was no longer acceptable.

  I gnawed my bottom lip. Yesterday, I’d been content in Boston with Andrew. But being here with Toby, yesterday’s contentment seemed imagined. Though our exchanges were neither calming nor overly cheerful, there was no place I wanted to be more.

  Dylan contently ate his early lunch while I knelt on the floor to lavish Bernie with some long overdue love. A cereal ring hit the floor, and Bernie jostled me as she dove forward to lick it off the floor. Dylan giggled with glee and tossed more cereal. Watching him get such a charge out of Bernie’s diving missions, I didn’t try to stop him. I giggled, too. By the time Toby came downstairs, the kitchen peeled with our laughter.

  “What did I say about feeding Bernie?” Toby gave his nephew a reproving look. “No table scraps. Claudia, you know better. Grains aren’t good for her.”

  When he took the empty plate to the sink, his back to us, I stuck my tongue out at him, and Dylan tossed Bernie another ring. When she scrambled to get it, Toby turned round and caught us both in the act.

  “That’s it. No more unsupervised time for you two.” Fighting a smile, he shook his head at us. “Dylan, you ready to go see your dad?”

  The little boy nodded, and his uncle whisked him from his seat to prepare for the outing. I excused myself to the bathroom to blow my nose. The renovation was finished. I spun around the small room, touching the wall tile and glossy vanity top. As I admired the warm coffee-colored tiles, cream wall paint, and ruby jewel accent color, it dawned on me again how out of step I was with Toby’s life. I wasn’t the only one moving on. With the house updated and for sale, he was moving on, too.

  It wasn’t like I wanted him to be stagnant and do nothing, but it hit me hard. I had to take a moment to collect myself and wipe my eyes before I could leave the bathroom.

  Bundled in a colorful, kiddie jacket, Dylan waited with Toby in the foyer, ready to leave.

  I grabbed my bag and jacket. “The bathroom looks amazing.”

  “Thanks. Finished it a few weeks ago.”

  “You decided to sell, huh?”

  “A single guy doesn’t need a three bedroom house,” he said.

  “Where will you go?”

  He lifted a shoulder. “Not sure. Maybe over at the beach in one of Joe and Sal’s rentals for a while.”

  “Will you let me know?” I suddenly felt anxious that I wouldn’t know where to find him.

  “The house could be on the market for a year or more, but sure, I’ll text you.” He slung the dinosaur bag over his shoulder. “Well, we really need to get on the road. Thanks for helping out.”

  “It was fun even if I got into a little hot water with the babysitter,” I said and knelt down in front of Dylan. “Can I get a hug?”

  Dylan didn’t hesitate to jump into my awaiting arms, mashing his little body to mine. An unexpected warmth blossomed in my chest. Turning out of the hug, he hooked an arm over my neck and played with my hair. “Corda sit with me?”

  “Ah—” Toby’s mouth popped open. “No, little man, Claudia can’t—”

  “I can,” I interrupted. “I’ve already been approved for visitation. Uncle Vinny is with my father, and it just so happens that my whole day is wide open.”

  “Claude, my brother …” He dawdled, giving Dylan a sidelong look. I knew he was considering what to say without being blunt. “It isn’t like visiting someone in a nursing home.”

  I stood up and leveled him with a look. “I know, but you promised me I could meet Al. I want to.”

  “Fine.” He ran an impatient hand through his hair and motioned to Dylan. “As long as you’re cool with sitting in the backseat and entertaining him.”

  Chapter 32 • Claudia

  I sat in the back of Toby’s Jeep next to Dylan in his car seat, kid tunes streaming through the speakers. I sang along to the silly, upbeat songs with Dylan and encouraged Toby to join our singing duo, but he just shook his head, maintaining his focus on the road and mostly ignoring his passengers. Busy with Dylan, I neither had time
to analyze his mindset nor consider what I was getting myself into.

  The drive upstate took a little over two hours. When we pulled into the parking area of Otisville Correction Facility, my stomach downshifted. I’d never been to a prison before. It didn’t get more real than seeing barbed wired fences, guard towers, and armed patrols on the grounds. Al had played a hand in Toby’s hellish childhood, but in the last few years, he had also played an important role in Toby’s adulthood healing. I didn’t know what I would say to Al Faye Junior or even how I would feel about meeting him face to face, but he was Toby’s family. No matter what obstacles Toby put up, my desire to meet him never wavered. Committed to the endeavor, I collected my wits and joined Toby outside the Jeep. He took one of Dylan’s hands, and I took the other. Together we made our way to the visiting area.

  Toby was familiar with the check-in process, and I followed his lead. We got through without any hassles. I expected we’d be sitting at a desk like partition with a glass screen separating us like I saw in the movies. Instead, the family visiting area we entered was a cafeteria-style room, albeit, with armed guards. I hung onto Dylan’s hand, acutely aware of them. Dylan watched the uniformed men with interest, but Toby ushered the boy past the guards, paying no attention to them.

  “There’s my boy,” a voice boomed across the room. It was gruff despite the kind greeting, and my eyes followed it to its owner. Al Junior looked just like a Faye. Despite being older and at least fifty pounds heavier, there was no denying that he and Toby were brothers. Because of the dynamics of his dense muscles, Al’s body and face appeared rounder than Toby’s leaner, longer form. Though I could admire the intense workout that produced such a mass, I preferred Toby’s sinewy muscular build over his brother’s.

  Al, waiting to be released into the room, appeared unaware that there was anyone else in the visiting area, not his brother nor the unfamiliar young woman gaping at him—only the little boy who shared his smile and almond-shaped eyes.

  Toby had warned me of what to expect, the search and hand stamping and the casual touch rule. Don’t do anything suspicious. Otherwise, the guards got involved. That wouldn’t be a problem for me.

  As soon as we were close enough, Dylan fearlessly shot towards his father. Al scooped his boy into his arms and gave him a hug. Al surrendered Dylan with an obvious reluctance, and the toddler returned to my side. Without wasting words, he pulled Toby into a hug, clapping his back loudly before he turned to me.

  “Well, this is unexpected. You must be the girl who got under my little brother’s skin.” His gaze traveled over me as if he were sizing me up.

  “Claudia,” I said, holding out my hand, refusing to be intimidated.

  “I know your name. I’ve heard it enough.” He engulfed my hand, squeezing it briefly while he winked at Toby. “Wahoo, brother. Nice. She’s a looker.”

  I flushed at his comment, noticing Toby shook his head, but didn’t offer to clarify the current state of our relationship.

  Toby and I sat down across from Al, and Dylan crawled up into my lap. While he told Al about his favorite cartoons and all about Bernie, I watched the two of them interact. It was sweet, and I felt sorry the two of them would never have a normal father/son relationship. Not with Al in prison. But with Toby bringing Dylan here, they at least had a relationship. Under the table, I found Toby’s hand with mine and squeezed his fingers.

  I didn’t talk much, content to listen as the brothers talked about work and their aunt, Joan. Nearing the end of the visiting time, Dylan began to do a wiggle. A moment later, he grabbed between his legs and yelped, “I have to go pottie!”

  Toby scooped Dylan up from my lap, already two steps in motion. “You be okay for a moment?”

  “Of course,” I said and waved him off.

  Toby whisked Dylan off to the restroom at the back of the visitor center. I watched as long as I could before it grew obvious that I didn’t feel comfortable being left alone with Al.

  “It took you long enough to come for a visit,” he said.

  I wasn’t about to admit it had been his brother who’d kept me away. “I’m sorry. My schedule is hectic with work and school.” I put my hands on the table in front of us.

  Al looked down at them. “I expected to see my mother’s ring on your finger. You holding out for a bigger rock?”

  My face warmed, and I pulled my hands away, hiding them under the table. “No. Toby and I… we broke up.”

  Al pulled back and squinted. “You’re shitting me. There’s no way he broke it off with you. Not with the way he talks about you. I almost expected you to float in here like some goddamn angel.” Al continued to stare at me as if by looking at me he’d figure it out. “What he’d do? Screw around on you?”

  “No.”

  “Hit you?”

  “Jeez, no!” I responded quickly. “Nothing like that.”

  “Then what?”

  “We disagreed over some core issues.”

  “Core issues?” Al snorted at my attempt to subvert the subject. “That guy is fucking crazy for you. I’ve never seen him so high on a girl before. This must have destroyed him.”

  Al sat there waiting for a response.

  “He’s really doing fine. He’s renovating the house and playing with his band,” I said, glancing over my shoulder in hopes I might see Toby and Dylan heading back our way. No such luck. When I turned around, Al leaned forward, forcing me to look into his obdurate face.

  “Let me tell you something about my little brother. Years ago, I had it in my head that he thought he was above us, our father and me. I beat the shit out of him, hell bent on breaking him and showing him he was just like us, just another twisted branch on our warped family tree. The more he refused to give in, the harder I wailed. But Toby was one tough little scrapper.” Al leaned back, putting his hands behind his head.

  The pose tightened the steel-like muscles of his triceps showcasing his considerable strength. The hair on the back of my neck stood up as I imagined the bruising punishment arms like those could mete out.

  “No, Toby didn’t lose his shit like I did or try to off himself like dear ol' dad.” Al’s voice held a hint of admiration, reverence even. “He spit fire and went down swinging, but the little shit never cried. Even when most kids would have caved, he didn’t. It used to piss me off how he moved on like he was untouchable, but I’m telling you, you don’t move on without scars from that kind of pain.” He rolled forward, catching my eye. “You bury it deep. And that’s what he’s doing with you.”

  That gutted me. A fire exploded in my throat, and my internal extinguishers activated, pouring down my face. I shuttered my hands over my eyes, attempting to hide my reaction.

  Al pulled back, and by his loud huff I could tell he hadn’t expected my tears. I rooted around in my coat pocket for a tissue, but I’d only brought my driver's license inside and nothing else.

  Al pulled off his sweatshirt and pushed it across the table at me. “Here, use this.”

  “I couldn’t.” I shook my head.

  “Just do it,” he insisted. “I’m going to be in deep shit when Toby sees I’ve upset you.”

  The thought of explaining my watery-eyed state to Toby made me snatch the institutional garb and wipe my face. The fabric smelt like a mix of laundry detergent and spicy underarm deodorant.

  Al tipped his head and watched me. “You come here with him and start blubbering when I talk about his pain. You still love him, don’t you?”

  I fisted the sweatshirt material in my hands, keeping my eyes lowered. “It doesn’t matter. We don’t want the same things.”

  “Tell him what you want. He’ll want it. No matter what it is. If you ask, that boy will be whatever you want him to be.”

  My heart broke. “Your brother deserves someone who will love him for exactly who he is.”

  He looked me square in the eye. “What if being exactly who you want is what he wants to be?”

  “We’re talking in circles.” I
sighed. “I would never expect him to change for me.”

  Al clopped his large, thick hands on the laminate table and leered forward. “I call bullshit.”

  “Excuse me?” I arched my brows in surprise.

  “You’ve been helping change him since the day he met you,” he said. “When he visits me, all he ever talks about is how much you’ve turned his life around. Toby needed change, and he’s fucking ecstatic about it. He’s making a better life for himself. He needs you.”

  “No,” I started to protest, but an overwhelming sense of guilt flooded my vocal chords and drowned out my voice. With a squirrely chirp, I buried my face into the folds of the sweatshirt.

  Commotion behind me warned of Toby and Dylan’s return, and I shoved Al’s sweatshirt under the table, pushing it at him. He took it as Dylan crawled back up onto my lap. I lowered my chin to the top of his small head and drew in calming breaths intermingled with his sweet little boy scent.

  “My boy,” Al said dismissing me to take Dylan’s hands and play a made up version of patty cake.

  “Kid peed a river. Straight shooter, too. Not a drop on the floor.” Toby thumbed his nephew’s nose with clear affection.

  I was still in shock that Al had seen right through me when I couldn’t even see myself. My failure to respond had Toby slanting towards me, his alert gaze taking in my red, glazed eyes.

  Arching over the tabletop, he snarled, “Al, what the fuck did you do?”

  “I didn’t do nothing.” His brother lifted his hands in innocence.

  “Toby,” I cautioned, wrapping my arms around Dylan.

  Toby looked at his nephew before dropping down on the bench next to me. He leaned forward, his expression threatening. “She’s crying. Obviously you did something.”

  I put a hand on his forearm. I didn’t want the two brothers fighting over me, not after what they’d been through to get where they were.

  “He didn’t do anything. We were only talking.” I swiped my face dry and managed a feeble smile. “You know me. It doesn’t take much to turn on the waterworks.”