“I planned on flying in for the Thanksgiving weekend. It’s a good month away, but perhaps we could go out for dinner on that Saturday night since I’ll be arriving Friday evening after work.”
Dinner sounded nice. She’d have a month to devote to Kyle after her hectic week in September. “Sure. I’d like that.”
Stephen guided the car to the spot in front of the center. “I fly out tomorrow evening. I have personal business to attend to before I return to work on Monday. I know you have a meeting tonight and I also understand you don’t like to commit too many evenings away from Kyle.”
Bridget held her breath. Was he asking for another date? They’d already been out twice this week. Still, she could understand his dilemma because time was a luxury he didn’t have since he lived in Kenora.
“I wondered...” He tapped the keychain dangling from the ignition. “I wondered if I flew in during the middle of September, if we could go out on a Saturday?”
Her stomach tightened. He was serious if he wanted to see her again before Thanksgiving weekend. “Oh...”
“I know it’s unexpected.” Stephen’s laugh was slightly strained. For once, worry crept into his ice-blue eyes. “We both have our own separate lives in separate towns. We live five hours apart. I understand Kyle’s care is important and this is a crucial time for you.”
Bridget squirmed. “I enjoyed your company and I’m thankful my brother introduced us. I admit you’re easy to speak to. As easy as Emery, and he’s the kind of man strangers will give their deepest, darkest secrets to.”
“And do you have deep, dark secrets?” Again, Stephen’s laugh was strained.
“Nothing too deep or too dark.” Bridget’s face warmed with a tinge of bashfulness.
Stephen must have seen a blush or something, because he leaned forward, resting his palm on the steering wheel. His fresh aroma caressed Bridget’s skin.
“Why don’t you text me around the middle of September. No pressure.” He held her hand.
Trembling, Bridget forced a nod.
“And I’ll see you on the October long weekend, anyway.” His lips brushed the back of Bridget’s hand.
He was such a nice man. Elation should ring through Bridget’s limbs, but life was such a mess right now. She was a mess. “Okay. October.”
“I’ll text you when you return from Ottertail Lake. A couple of days after. I know you’ll be busy unpacking and seeing to Kyle. I don’t want you feeling I’m invading your personal space or responsibilities.”
“Thank you.”
“No. Thank you.” His hand still held hers.
Chapter Seventeen: Born to Lose
“She’s... um... she was my girlfriend.” Logan stood, hands in pockets.
Adam remained seated in one of the many plush leather chairs against the wall. The board of directors sat in the chairs surrounding the cherrywood table. The Indigenous Women’s Alliance sure knew how to spiff up a board room, from the matching cherrywood buffet to the thick carpeting. They even had native arts and crafts decorating the walls.
The chairperson, Priscilla, had finished ranting about children in care and whether justice would be served for Sheena Keesha. She peeked over the rims of her glasses. “Please. Sit.” She motioned at one of the seats at the table.
Logan plopped in the chair beside Bridget.
“You’re Adam’s friend,” Logan said.
“Yes, I am.” Warmth toasted Bridget’s dark eyes.
Logan twiddled his thumbs. He glared. “Me and Adam’re trying to figure out what happened. You’re s’posed to help us and you keep blowing us off. What’s the deal?”
Bridget gasped.
Adam rubbed his brow. This was kwe’s fight, not his. She had to answer to the kid, not him.
“It wasn’t my intention to defer my assistance to a later date, but as you can see, I have other obligations to meet first. I hope you understand helping you is important to me.” Sincerity reflected in Bridget’s dark eyes.
“How’d you agree to help?” Priscilla asked. “We do have a protocol—”
“I agreed to make enquiries at the last place Sheena was seen.” Pink spread across Bridget’s cheeks.
“The Gator’s a dangerous place. We should pressure the police and Children and Family Services for answers.” Priscilla sat back and focused her no-nonsense look at Logan. “Are you also in care?”
“Nope. Left when I turned eighteen a few months ago.”
“Where’re you residing now?”
“Joseph Howarth halfway house. I got sent there after I got out of rehab.”
“As a board, we should direct our efforts toward those responsible for Sheena’s care and safety. How many more children have to die before something’s done about it?” Priscilla’s face reddened. “Bridget, you mentioned helping Logan. I think what we should do is develop a special committee to draft our concerns to the police and Children and Family Services. Once this is done, the board will review the committee’s draft and formalize it at the next meeting. From there, we can begin an action plan on how we’ll approach the police and Children and Family Services.”
Adam threw back his head. More fucking red tape. The old-timers would tell him to be part of the solution instead of silently complaining. “I’ll volunteer to sit on this committee.” He raised his hand.
“Excuse me?” Priscilla’s dark eyebrows knitted.
“You heard me.”
“As a courtesy, we allow the Indigenous public to sit in on our meetings, unless we are in-camera. I’m pleased you’ve shown an interest in what we do. However, I never got your name.” She tapped her pen on a pad of paper.
“Adam Guimond. I’m looking out for him.” He used his chin to motion at Logan.
“I see...” Priscilla’s gaze darted around the table.
“I’ll volunteer for the committee. If the board approves, I’ll begin requesting assistance from our membership for people who are interested in being a part of it.” Bridget spoke in her clear, professional tone, the take-charge one that had first captured Adam from the start.
“I already said I’d be on it.” He stared at Bridget.
Her hair was secured off of her face with a beaded barrette. A tan coated her toned arms. As beautiful as she was, Adam would do what he could for Logan, even if it meant working with a woman who’d chosen another man over him.
* * * *
Bridget carried her briefcase, the meeting having adjourned fifteen minutes earlier. She left the building through the main doors. Adam and Logan stood on the sidewalk at the bus stop sign, both smoking. Logan’s lips moved, but his voice never carried to where Bridget walked.
She should offer them a ride. The look in Logan’s eyes, his accusations earlier... her stomach still rolled from how she’d let him down, all because of her fear and selfishness.
“Do you need a ride?” Bridget called out.
Adam shook his head.
“Awesome. Saves me money.” Logan trotted over.
Adam dragged his feet as if he’d been sentenced to life in prison.
“I’m over here.” She pointed to the back of the building where staff parked.
They followed her along the sidewalk. When they reached the truck, Logan exclaimed, “Nice ride. Pretty bitchin’. I’d expect a guy to drive this. Not a...”
He sheepishly grinned.
“I get that all the time.” Bridget pressed the button on her keys to unlock the doors.
Logan moved to open the back door.
“Go ahead and sit in the front, kid,” Adam muttered.
“Right on.” Logan jumped in the passenger seat.
Bridget’s body temperature climbed. Adam’s cold countenance was ten times worse when he behaved this way. No, she didn’t expect him to be overly friendly after she’d turned away his declaration of love, but he could at least be civil.
She huffed around the truck and got in.
During their drive to the halfway house, Logan babbled about
Sheena while Adam sat in stony silence. Every time Bridget snuck a peek in the rearview mirror, Adam continued to stare out the tinted window. The tension matched a thick fog malicious enough to stop traffic on the street if it had seeped out from the truck.
She pulled over in front of the brick building.
“Thanks for the ride.” Logan grinned. “You’re okay in my book.”
Yes, in your book, but not Adam’s. “You’re welcome. And thank you.”
“We’re not on for The Gator tomorrow night, then?” Logan cracked open the door.
“As a committee we’ll ensure a proper investigation’s done for Sheena.” Bridget should reassure Logan. He’d been through so much. She reached over and patted his hand.
Adam vacated the truck.
“Sounds cool.” Logan’s smile brightened to the intensity of the sun. “Thanks. I mean it.” He hopped out. “See ya then.”
They wandered up the walkway.
A weight filled Bridget. Fine. They’d work together on the committee and only the committee. If Adam wanted to hate her for protecting herself, he could damn well go ahead. It wasn’t her fault she’d made a wise decision any other intelligent woman would have made.
She drove off. The only man she needed was Kyle. But once Adam obtained full custody, he’d probably bolt for Winnipeg. She’d never hear from Kyle, never see him for the rest of her waking days.
Bridget punched the steering wheel. Why was God doing this to her? Why bring Adam back into her life?
* * * *
Adam sat in the visitation room. He’d brought a board game and a new treat for his boy. This visit had to be extra special since he’d fly out for Ottertail Lake on Sunday night. If Bridget was volunteering for Healing the Spirit, she’d probably catch an earlier flight to the reserve.
He’d filled out the application form and had gotten Harold to fax it off. Emery had contacted Adam at the halfway house, saying he’d get him at the airport. During his engagement to Bridget, Adam hadn’t met her younger brother, who’d been in London at the time, preparing to become a priest.
From what he’d heard about Darryl, the guy sounded pretty cool, a hardcore traditionalist who served on band council and worked as the self-governance coordinator.
The couple knew of Adam’s past and had still agreed to house him. This meant they didn’t judge ex-cons. Too bad Bridget didn’t feel the same way.
The door opened. The Hawk strode into the room, clipboard in hand. “Good afternoon, Mr. Guimond.”
“Afternoon.”
“I understand you’ll be away next week.” She sat in the chair and crossed her bird legs at the ankles.
“Yep. It’s why I wanted to meet before my boy gets here.”
“What is there to meet about?” She pursed her skinnier-than-her-legs lips. “You made a decision to cancel your weekly visitation.”
Damn bitch. Did she have to make his decision sound like he had chosen booze over Kyle? “I wanted to give you information on the workshop I’m taking. This is why I won’t be here next week.”
Adam reached inside his jeans pocket and withdrew the crumpled paper. He stood and sauntered over to the gray-haired biddy whose bun was tighter than her attitude.
Using the tips of her fingers, The Hawk snatched the corner of the paper, as if making sure not to touch his criminal red hand. “Give me a moment.”
Her cold eyes shifted back and forth, reading about Healing the Spirit. After a couple of minutes of making Adam stand in front of her, she looked up. “A reconciliation of Christian and First Nations communities?”
“Yep.” He folded his arms and stared down at her.
“Please, sit.” She motioned at the chair beside her, the one Bridget always occupied.
Stupid old biddy. She probably didn’t like him having the advantage of glaring down at her.
“And how is this workshop supposed to help you become a responsible father, which you neglected to do the first time you attempted to care for your son?”
Was she serious? Adam stamped down the growl ready to erupt from his hot throat. “It’s about the Indian Residential Schools and the... uh...” How could he explain himself? He wasn’t a smooth speaker. That’d been Bad Bob’s department, the man with the golden tongue who’d served as the Winnipeg Warriors’ prime negotiator.
“The schools had more than an effect on the kids who went. It also had a bad effect on their kids.”
“And your parents attended these schools?”
“Yep. And my grandparents. Their parents, too. Get it?”
“How does this pertain to you?”
“The schools weren’t good. Everybody knows this. My parents and grandparents left the school not knowing how to parent. Only knew abuse. Sure didn’t help them raise my parents right. And my parents weren’t the greatest parents either. You see what I mean? Dominoes.”
“Mr. Guimond, do you know how many times I hear this excuse?” The Hawk’s voice sharpened to the severity of her beak.
“I ain’t giving excuses. I messed up bad. What I’m trying to do is make a better life for myself. I think this workshop will help. It’s about...” He’d better try to quote the paper. “It’s about discovering your inner spirit and engaging the Creator so you can learn to forgive the people who hurt you. Who hurt your race.”
“I see.” The old bat’s dead eyes said she didn’t buy what Adam was selling. “Well, if you feel this’ll help you, by all means, go to your workshop. I hope you’ll explain yourself better to your son than you did to me.”
“That’s what I plan on doing.” He stood and tromped back over to where he’d set his belongings.
The door opened. Kyle dashed inside, big eyes brighter than the sun and his big grin larger than a crescent moon. “Dad! Dad!”
Adam gulped. Maybe he’d made a mistake? Not seeing Kyle next week was a prison shank plunged into his gut. “Hey.”
He squatted and opened his arms. Kyle melted against Adam’s chest, and he wrapped his boy in a bear hug. His child’s warmth, his innocent scent, his light breaths on Adam’s ear, talk about capable of making the toughest convict grow a lump in his throat.
“How you been?” he whispered.
“Awesome, Dad. I love Wednesdays.”
Hearing those words sweetened Adam’s heart to a big tablespoon of sugar. Each visit, his boy was trusting Adam and giving him much-needed love. “So do I. So do I.” He patted Kyle’s back.
“What’re we gonna do?” Kyle beamed.
“I brought this.” Adam picked up the board game. “Checkers.”
“Checkers?” Kyle peered at the box. “What’s that?”
“Something I played as a kid. C’mon, I’ll show you how to play.”
“Okay.” Kyle pranced to the small table where he always sat.
Adam grabbed a bigger chair. If he sat on one of those tiny things, he’d go down fast. Just as he sat, he finally looked at Bridget outfitted in a leg-baring yellow mini-skirt, fuck-me beige sandals with the straps secured around her slim ankles, and sleek arms bared in a white-collared sleeveless blouse. Did she get all sexed up for the Bible thumper, too?
Adam sat. His boy was here, and only he deserved Adam’s attention. “It’s easy to play. All you gotta do is ste—Err, win all the checkers.” A much better word. If he’d said steal aloud, The Hawk would have x’d another strike against him.
They played for a half an hour. Kyle’s giggles bathed the room in warmth that kneaded away the steel blades in Adam’s shoulders since having two women picking him apart was never a picnic.
Now came the moment Adam had dreaded. He cleared his throat while Kyle munched on the cinnamon apple bars Adam had baked. “Y’know how hard I’m trying so we can go out for the afternoon without anyone tagging along.”
“Yep.” Kyle kept munching, staring up at Adam like he was one of those Z Men his boy worshiped, taking on criminals for the good of society.
I ain’t no hero, not at all, but one day I’ll
be deserving of being called one. “I’m working hard. Going to special meetings every night that are s’posed to make me a better person and father.”
“You already are.” Kyle grinned and poked Adam’s knee.
His son always touched Adam now. He grasped Kyle’s fingers. “There’s a special workshop starting on Monday at your mom’s reserve.”
“Yeah. Mom’s going. She’s leaving on Sunday. I’m staying at Uncle Jude’s.” Kyle grinned. “Uncle’s gonna bring me next week to see you.”
There wasn’t any saliva in Adam’s mouth, and saying what he had to say was tough enough without a good helping of spit. “The workshop’s really special.”
“Yeah, it is. Uncle Emery’s gonna learn how to be a healer of spirits. Grandpa already is and helps the speakers. Uncle Darryl’s gonna be a part of the workshop. It’s gonna make him happy, Mom said.”
“It’ll make your Uncle Darryl very happy. It’s why I wanna go. I wanna be happy, too.”
“You’re already happy.”
“Yep, seeing you every Wednesday is what makes me super-happy.” Adam patted Kyle’s knee. “Your Uncle Emery and Uncle Darryl said I could stay at their place for the workshop.”
“But you don’t need to go.” Kyle’s lower lip protruded. “You’re already happy.”
“I know...” Adam gulped. “But I’ll be a better father and super-happy if I go.”
Hate thundered in Kyle’s condemning stare, and he wrenched himself from Adam’s embrace. “You’re going away again. You’re leaving.”
The accusation in his big, innocent eyes cut across Adam’s stomach. Any second his innards should spill onto the floor. “No. No. I’m not leaving.”
Adam held up his fingers so Kyle could count them. “I’ll be back on Friday evening.”
“You’re going away again.” Kyle shook his head, the hate continuing to brew like a reckless thunder storm gathering momentum to twist into a threatening tornado. “Going away. Going away for four more years.”
“No. No. Not four years.” Adam reached out to draw Kyle back into his embrace.
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