Everybody's Hero

by Karen Templeton

  Just like thinking about her did. But if he thought about Mom hard enough, he could almost pretend she was still alive. Except then he'd remember she wasn't, and he'd feel all cold and empty again. He hadn't expected things to be better at Taylor's, but for some reason they were. A little, anyway. But then he got all confused because, on the one hand, he didn't want the better feelings to go away, but, on the other hand, maybe it wasn't right. As if it meant he didn't love his mother enough or something.

  His brain kinda changed channels then, and suddenly he was thinking about how Oakley'd let him lie against him, like a big old pillow, his fur soft against Seth's cheek. Like that big stuffed bear he used to have that Mom had given him for Christmas when he was real little. Joe had told Seth he could bring anything he wanted with him, when Joe came to take him after…after the accident. But Seth didn't want Joe to think he was some stupid baby who still played with stuffed animals, so he'd left the bear behind.

  He pulled his head back inside and wriggled around so he could pull the police car out of his pants pocket. The car was awesome, its doors really worked and everything. It'd been nice, lying against the dog, playing with his car, listening to Joe's and Taylor's voices coming through the kitchen window. He couldn't tell what they were saying, but that was okay. At least they weren't yelling at each other, the way Mom and Dad used to.

  Seth scrunched up his face, trying to remember what it was like when Dad still lived with them and Mom and Dad still liked each other. Not like at the end, when Dad would sometimes come and take Seth away for the weekend, but he never really looked happy about it.

  They pulled up in front of the cabin where he and Joe were staying then both got out. It was okay, he guessed, even if the mosquitoes were about to drive him crazy. But he'd seen a deer in the woods behind the cabin, once, and the other day a raccoon had come up onto the porch, and that had been pretty cool.

  "You hungry?" Joe asked when they went inside. It was real hot in here, even after Joe opened up all the windows and turned on the ceiling fans.

  "I dunno. Maybe."

  "How about some ice cream?"

  Joe said all the cabins were going to get air-conditioning in the next couple of weeks. But it didn't really matter, since Seth didn't really mind the heat all that much, anyway.

  "Sure, I guess."

  He followed his brother into the kitchen, climbing up onto a stool in front of the counter while he watched Joe scoop ice cream into two bowls. Joe gave him a lot more ice cream than Mom ever did, but Seth didn't want to hurt Joe's feelings by telling him that. He figured his brother was having a hard enough time trying to figure out what to do with a little kid.

  Like the way he kept asking Seth questions, about what he liked and stuff. And the way he'd catch Joe looking at him, with his forehead all creased, like he couldn't quite figure out why Seth was still there.

  Oh, Joe was nice—nicer than Dad had been, at least at the end—but Seth knew he was only with Joe because neither of them had a choice in the matter. And Taylor had taken him home with her because there hadn't been anybody else, either. Maybe grown-ups didn't think kids knew the difference, between when somebody did something because they wanted to and when they had to. Well, Seth could tell, and all he had to say was, it sucked.

  Joe put a dish of plain ice cream in front of him. Seth would've liked chocolate sauce on it, the way Mom used to fix it, but he didn't want to complain. Nobody liked a kid who whined about stuff. Joe brought his own dish to the counter and got up on the stool beside Seth, but he didn't look all that interested in eating it. Seth understood—there were lots of times he didn't much feel like eating, either. These days, especially.

  They ate without anybody saying much. Then Joe asked Seth if he was ready for bed.

  "I don't know," he said.

  "You don't know?"

  "Well, I always had to go to bed at nine, but Mom had said maybe I could start staying up until ten in the summer, or when I didn't have school."

  Joe got this funny look on his face, as if this were something he didn't want to hear. "Well…then I guess you can stay up until ten. As long as you don't give me a hard time about getting up in the morning."

  "I won't, I promise."

  Then Joe kinda looked around the room, like he was hoping to find something, until his eyes came back to Seth's. "I guess you could play video games until then."

  "Oh." Seth tried not to feel disappointed, but he couldn't help it. He knew he was weird, not liking video games all that much when his friends would play them until their hands dropped off if they could get away with it. But he wasn't real good at them, so if he played too long he usually ended up in a stinky mood. "Mom used to read to me, or listen to me read. Or play games and stuff. So we could spend time with each other, you know? I brought books with me, remember?" he added, just in case Joe was going to say they didn't have anything to read. Seth hadn't said anything about reading and all that before this because he hadn't wanted to seem pushy, figuring maybe Joe would offer when he was ready. Except it just now occurred to Seth maybe Joe didn't know that's what he was supposed to do, so it was up to Seth to clue him in. "And games, too. Parcheesi and checkers. If you don't know, I could teach you, they're real easy…"

  Now Joe's face went all panicky looking, like Seth felt when a teacher would call on him and he didn't know the answer. Then his brother's eyes slipped over to the corner of the living room where he'd set up a drafting table and files and his computer, like an office. "Shoot, buddy, that would be great, but…" Frowning, he looked back at Seth. "I've got a ton of work to do yet—"

  "But you've been working all day! Aren't you tired of it?"

  Joe smiled. Sorta. "It's not a matter of whether I'm tired of it or not. It's just stuff I've gotta do. I'm really sorry, squirt, but I can't just show up unprepared."

  Even though Joe's voice was real quiet, Seth got that hot, stingy feeling at the back of his throat like he was gonna cry. But no way was he gonna do that, not anymore. Bad enough he'd acted like a sissy baby that first day at camp. Especially since, when Joe'd come to get him after the accident, Seth'd heard him talking to that social worker lady, who'd said if it didn't work out Joe could bring him back and they'd try to find him another home. Like Seth was something you bought at a store and changed your mind about so you returned it, like Mom did that time with a dress that didn't fit her right. Of course, nobody knew he'd heard them talking, but he was glad he had, 'cause now at least he knew what he was up against. Maybe things weren't great, but at least Joe wasn't mean or anything, Joe was his brother, and if he took Seth back to Oklahoma City, he'd have to go live with strangers. Strangers who weren't even related to him.

  So Seth figured he'd better keep his mouth shut and not let on like he was hurt or anythin', else Joe would figure Seth was too much for him to handle, like Dad would say sometimes—Boy, you are too much for me, with your constantly asking me questions and stuff. Only he didn't say stuff, he'd say the bad s word.

  But, boy, did he feel like crying, because nothin' felt safe anymore, and he was getting real tired of it. So all he said was, "Y' know, I think I'm tireder than I thought, so maybe I'll go to bed after all."

  Joe frowned at him. "You sure?"

  "Yeah. I'm sure." He slid off the stool and started for his room.

  "Seth?"

  He turned around, saw how sorry and confused Joe looked, and made up his mind that if it killed him, he wasn't gonna make any trouble.

  "I suppose we could play a couple of games of checkers if you want."

  "No, that's okay, I don't really feel like it anymore, anyway."

  "Are you—"

  "Yeah, I'm sure. Really."

  "Well. Okay. Another time, then."

  He shrugged. "Whatever."

  Joe looked at him real hard for a couple seconds and then said, "Then go ahead and get your teeth brushed, and I'll be in to say goodnight."

  "No! I mean, jeez, I'm too big for that."

  Jo
e frowned some more. "Since when?"

  "Since now. So, g' night, I guess."

  Another moment passed before Joe said, "'Night, squirt. Sleep tight."

  But instead of answering, Seth ran into his room and shut the door, because he couldn't hold in the tears anymore. He wished like heck this was a bad dream and he'd wake up and Mom would be there, holding him and telling him it was all right, there was nothing to cry about, everything was okay.

  Except nothing was okay, he thought, throwing himself on the bed and burying his face in the pillow so Joe wouldn't hear him cry. Nothing would ever be okay again.

  * * *

  "Dammit!"

  Joe charged across the kitchen, clattered the two dirty bowls into the sink, then slammed one hand against the edge. How the hell was he supposed to help Seth if he wouldn't let him in? He knew he'd hurt the kid's feelings by saying he couldn't play with him, but then his brother wouldn't even give him a chance to make it up to him or talk about it, nothing.

  He walked back out of the kitchen, glowering at Seth's closed door, mad at himself for hoping the kid's good mood might stick around a little longer, even madder for not knowing what to do to make it stick around. For a moment, he thought about knocking on the door and trying again. Except Joe remembered what it felt like, after his father left, how everybody bent over backward to try to make him feel better—his mother, his grandparents, his teachers—when all he really wanted was to be left alone.

  Joe had thought he'd get over wanting to be alone. Until it dawned on him one day that counting on people was where most people made their first mistake. Maybe his determination that nobody would ever get the chance to screw him over like that, ever again, was the knee-jerk reaction of a hurting child. But as time went on, Joe began to see the wisdom of that vow, especially in the light of his ongoing responsibilities. It was all about focus, about not letting outside…stuff get in the way of his obligations.

  It was just easier this way.

  With a heavy sigh, he went over to the corner of the living room he'd turned into an office, sinking into the chair behind the drafting table. Maybe Seth needed to work some of this out on his own, too. Or maybe…maybe it wasn't going to work, Joe taking care of his brother.

  The thought knocked the breath from his lungs. Once again, he glanced across the room at the closed door, unwilling to believe the words still reverberating in his head, equally unable to refute them. But Joe had lived by himself for so long…just because they were brothers…if Joe couldn't be what Seth needed…the only thing that mattered was what was best for the kid…

  The sound of a truck pulling up in front of the cabin startled his train of thought off its tracks. Massaging the muscles at the base of his neck, he went to the front door and opened it in time to see Taylor and Oakley get out of her truck.

  Oh, yeah, just what he needed.

  Looking none too pleased herself, Taylor came up onto the cabin's porch to hand Joe Seth's lunch box.

  "He left it at my house. I figured Seth would be in bed so you wouldn't be able to come get it."

  "Thanks," Joe said, and that should have been that. And might have been that if Taylor hadn't looked at him like she could see straight through his skull. "What's the matter?" she said, and he said, "Nothing, everything's fine." She frowned at him in a way that suggested she was thinking a very unladylike word.

  "It's nothing I can't handle," he said.

  "I don't doubt that for a minute."

  "And I've got a boatload of work to do."

  Her mouth flattened. "I'm sure you do. Well, I just came to give you back the lunch box. So there it is."

  "Yeah." He held it up. "Thanks."

  "Anytime." Taylor turned to leave, calling the dog. Moonlight kissed her hair, eased over her skin; on a faint, damp breeze, her scent floated back to him, taunting.

  "It's Seth," he said before she'd gotten all the way down the stairs.

  She twisted back around, a flicker of triumph in her eyes. "What about Seth?"

  "Never mind, forget it, I don't want to take up your time…"

  "Hey. It's summer. Nothing but reruns on TV, anyway."

  Then she smiled.

  Joe blew out a breath. "All I've got is beer. And milk."

  "Beer is good," she said, and Joe wondered if anything would ever really be good, ever again.

  Chapter 6

  This was one desperate hombre sitting on the porch steps beside her.

  Not that he'd be any too pleased to know that's what she was thinking, Taylor imagined. But since he'd pretty much related every detail of what had transpired between Seth and him from the moment they'd left her house until roughly a few minutes before she'd arrived, there wasn't a whole lotta doubt about it. And her heart ached, it really did, for this pair of clueless males thrown together in some lifeboat of a relationship without an oar between them.

  However—she took a swallow of her beer and idly wondered if she was ever going to grow up—sympathy probably wasn't what Joe needed. What Joe needed, she decided, was a swift kick in the butt. God knows she did. For eating the damn chocolate (her head was killing her), for asking the man what was wrong…take your pick.

  Of course, he wasn't actually asking for help. Or even advice. Nowhere in the conversation had he inserted a single, "So what do you think I should do?" or "Got any ideas how I should handle this?"

  Of course.

  "Okay," she said at last, figuring if she didn't prod the conversation in the direction it needed to go they'd be sitting there for the rest of the night, "not that you're asking me, but…maybe you just need to be more patient, you know? There's no magic formula for this. It's going to take time. Until you two get to know each other better, and until Seth learns to trust you, you're going to hit lots of bumpy spots."

  Silence from the other side of the steps. Then, out of the dark, "How's he going to learn to trust me if he won't talk to me?"

  "Well…maybe he's afraid to talk because he thinks you're going to resent being interrupted."

  "Ah, hell, Taylor…"

  "Hey. We've already established I'm not the type to pussy-foot around an issue."

  "Yeah, your issues."

  She washed down the bitterness at the back of her throat with another slug of beer. "Maybe so," she said quietly. "But sure sounds to me like they're your issues now."

  Silence. Then a swear word. She thought, anyway, since it was in Spanish.

  "I don't want to know what that meant, do I?"

  "Probably not."

  More silence. Then, because she clearly had a death wish, she said, "I know you want to fix this. As quickly as possible, for both your sakes. But it doesn't always happen that way."

  This time, the silence stretched out so long and taut, her ears rang with it.

  "You saying it's hopeless?"

  "No, of course not." It was a damn good thing he was sitting as far away as he was, because she wanted nothing more than to lay her hand on his arm. "What I am saying is sometimes we have to admit we don't have all the answers before we can figure out how to solve the problem."

  "That doesn't make sense."

  "Life rarely does."

  Oakley hauled himself up the steps, flopping down between them with a loud groan. After a moment, Joe reached over to scratch the dog behind the ears. Then he said, very softly, "It's killing me, seeing Seth so unhappy."

  Taylor waited, but once again, the logical follow-up to that—a request for help—didn't come. A mild spurt of annoyance winnowed through her at that damn male pride that made so many women's lives a living hell. But right on the heels of the irritation came another, far less defined emotion—that she was probably seeing Joe Salazar about as vulnerable as he got. Something she doubted he shared with many others. That he should pick her…Well. She didn't quite know what to think about that.

  "So," she said, "what are you gonna do about it?"

  Again, he took his sweet time answering. But when she finally heard the weary "I don
't know" from a few feet away, the fear in his voice that no amount of macho I-can-handle-it posturing could cover up, she realized she had two choices—offer the help the bleepin' man was too stubborn to ask for himself, or walk away and let him muddle through on his own.

  The pounding in her head got louder.

  "Okay, I'll tell you what—when Seth's with me, I suppose I can read to him or play games or whatever. And maybe…I can get him to talk to me, see what's going on inside his head." She stood up, rattling her car keys to get Oakley's attention, then looked over at the man sitting with his hands clamped between his knees, the moonlight edging a rigid profile. "But I'm gonna let you in on a secret—it's not the book and games he really wants, it's you. He needs to bond to you, not me. Because at the end of the summer, I stay here and you and Seth go…where ever it is you end up going. And there's not a whole lot of sense in letting him get too attached to someone who's not going to be part of his life after a few weeks, is there?"

  Almost in slow motion, Joe lifted his eyes to hers. "No. There isn't."

  "So." She swallowed. "We have an understanding?"

  "Yes, ma'am, I would say we do."

  Then, figuring everything had been discussed that needed to be, Taylor dragged the dog off the porch and convinced him to get back in the truck. And as she drove home, she decided she needed to tack up that look in Joe's eyes someplace where she'd be sure to see it at least a hundred times a day.

  * * *

  Shortly after five o'clock a few days later, Taylor herded Seth into her house, fixed him a snack, then asked if he minded if she made a couple of phone calls. The boy shook his head, then politely—he was always polite—took his snack and cup of juice out back to sit on the porch swing Taylor'd finally gotten around to putting up last weekend. Oakley, who had a particular fondness for Cracker Barrel cheese, went to keep him company.

  Taylor stood at the back door for a moment or two, frowning through the screen at the child as he perched on the edge of the swing, nibbling his crackers and cheese and staring off into space, his sneakers squeaking rhythmically against the porch floorboards when he pushed off.