Redeemed

by Maggie Blackbird

  “Go away!” Kyle scampered backward. “Go away! Mom’ll never leave me! She loves me! You don’t! You’re going away! Get lost!”

  “Kyle!” Bridget stood.

  Everything happened in a millisecond. Kyle darted for Bridget, Adam’s heart fell to the floor and burst, and The Hawk sucked in what fat she had on her cheeks while her thin lips twisted into an I knew it satisfied look.

  Chapter Eighteen: God was Never on Your Side

  Bridget paced the kitchen. Kyle had cried all the way to the car. Cried all the way to Pizza World. Cried all the way home. Cried all the way to his bedroom. He’d thrown himself on the lower bunk, a place he loathed because it was too dark below, and had cried himself to sleep while she’d rubbed his back and kissed the top of his head.

  He’d never eaten one slice of his favorite treat or sipped any cola, another of his number one delights.

  If Bridget kept her trap shut or encouraged Kyle’s outburst, she’d win custody. Mrs. Dale was already on Bridget’s side. Damn the conscience that told her to do the right thing. God did not want her to turn Kyle against his father.

  Life wasn’t fair. She always did the right thing and got nowhere. Alone. With nothing but a career again if she lost Kyle.

  Bridget hustled from the kitchen to the living room and dropped on the sofa. The suede upholstery and feather-filled cushions always swathed her in comfort. Not tonight. The throw pillow’s velvet smoothness she hugged might as well be a rock. Nothing would expunge the tightness in her chest until she talked to Kyle and reassured Adam, who’d been left behind in the visitation room, devastation carved into his sunken eyes, downturned lips, and dejected jawline.

  She glanced at the crystal clock perched on the glass square side table. Seven. Kyle still had to bathe. She’d talk to him and defend a man who didn’t deserve defending.

  “Sweetie, it’s seven-thirty. Time for your bath.” Bridget stood in the doorway of Kyle’s room. She could do this. She’d prayed the Rosary, asking for strength.

  “No.” Disappointment filled his tiny voice.

  “Remember what I said about rules we have to follow, even when we don’t want to follow them? C’mon.” She kept her tone light, coaxing.

  Kyle rose from the lower bunk. He hugged himself.

  She rubbed the back of his head. “It won’t take long, honey. A quick bath before you sleep.”

  They padded to the main bathroom where Bridget had already filled the jetted tub and had added a generous helping of Mr. Suds, another treat Kyle was only allowed on Saturday nights. She’d even added his favorite toys to the water.

  “C’mon. Time to undress before it gets cold.”

  “Fine.” Kyle yanked off his clothes and threw them in the corner.

  Even though her son was hurting, Bridget couldn’t allow such behavior. “That’s not where they go. Hamper.” She pointed.

  “Fine.” He snatched his belongings, tossed them into the bin, and slammed shut the lid. “There. Happy?”

  “No. I’m not happy. Why would I be? How can I be happy when you’re upset?” She sat on the bathing stool and motioned at the tub.

  Kyle climbed in. “I’m not going anymore.”

  “Going where?” She dipped the bowl into the water. “Cover your eyes. Mom’s wetting your hair.”

  He did as told while she emptied the bowl over his prickly hair. “I’m not visiting him again. He’s not my dad.”

  Here was Bridget’s cue to talk up an unworthy Adam. “We have rules to follow. Children and Family Services expect us to visit every Wednesday at three-thirty.”

  “He broke the rule.” Kyle scowled. “He won’t be there next Wednesday. He’s going to the workshop. He’s going away. He’s not coming back.”

  “He’s coming back.” Bridget set aside the bowl and squirted some shampoo into her palm. She massaged Kyle’s scalp. “He’ll be there for the next visit.”

  “I don’t wanna go. You can’t make me go.” Kyle kept his arms folded and lower lip turned down in a big pout.

  “If you don’t go, I’ll be in trouble.” Bridget dipped the bowl back into the water and rinsed off his hair.

  “No, you won’t. We’ll go. We’ll go live at Grandpa and Grandma’s.”

  “That’s called running away. You know God doesn’t want us to do that. He wants us to trust Him.” Then why did the urge to flee to the safety of her parents like an eight-year-old tempt Bridget? The days of Daddy making everything right were long done.

  She was thirty-six. A grown woman. Her parents’ faith had sustained her as a child, and when she’d received Confirmation by the bishop in grade eight, Mom and Dad had told her she was old enough to begin seeking her own faith by enrolling her in the Catholic Youth Group that Jude participated in.

  “Understand, this was a very hard decision for your dad. He counts the clock every day, and then he checks off each day on the calendar, waiting to see you. It broke his heart to...” Bridget choked back the disgust in her throat. Adam had never made sacrifices for her. Ever.

  “It broke his heart to choose the workshop over visiting you. But he understood attending Healing the Spirit was the best thing for him, and you. He’s doing this for you. Not only him. He’s going to miss you very much next week.”

  “No, he won’t. He didn’t miss me... miss me when he went to the big house.”

  “I told you. He broke a rule. He had to go to the big house to make up for breaking the rule. He’s back now. He wants to be a part of your life again. I...”

  Lord, spit it out for me.

  “I want you to be a part of his life, too. Your dad’s a...” Say it. “A good man who’s trying very hard. If I didn’t think he was worthy of being your dad, we wouldn’t go to these visits. I’d fight the people in charge by telling them you shouldn’t visit your dad.”

  The tight line straightening Kyle’s mouth slackened. “You’d fight them for me, even if it went against the rules?”

  “Yes.” Bridget lathered the washcloth and held it out since she was teaching Kyle to bathe himself. “Okay, it’s ready. Show Mom how you wash up.”

  Beaming, he took the cloth. “And we’ll talk every night?”

  “I already told you, at six-thirty, once you’re done supper and before it’s time for bed, we’ll talk on Uncle Jude’s computer.”

  “Will Dad talk to me?” His big eyes glittered, full of hope.

  Video chatting might be considered visiting. “I don’t know, honey. I think your dad would have to get permission from Mrs. Dale. I can ask him to speak to her. Uncle Emery has a laptop your dad can use.”

  “Really?” Kyle clapped.

  “You know you’ll have to apologize to your dad. He was awfully hurt today.”

  “I know.” Kyle lowered his head. “I didn’t mean to say that. I thought he was going away again.”

  Something resembling white-hot lightning flashed through Bridget’s chest. Boy, after what she’d done, Adam had better not screw up. If he hurt Kyle again, there’d be no more chances. She’d been this close to calling this boy her very own today.

  * * * *

  Adam heaved himself to his room. He should have skipped tonight’s meeting since he hadn’t listened to one word from the reading or the comments from the other members.

  When feeling like this, he was supposed to help another alcoholic. Fuck it. Why bother? His own son hated him. Bridget would probably have to drag Kyle to the next visit. And at the visit, he’d have to endure Kyle’s forced presence full of loathing. The Hawk was probably at her nest right now, squawking and singing at his failure.

  He’d lost. Bridget had gotten her way. She’d get to keep Kyle.

  Adam fingered his Big Book. Maybe he’d meander down to Logan’s room and they’d read a story together.

  Someone banged on the door. “Guimond. Phone.”

  Raw fury erupted in Adam’s veins, his blood thundering. Only one person called at this hour. He ripped open the door and stomped down the hall.
If Bridget dared to tell him Kyle wanted no part of Adam anymore, he’d let her have it.

  He snatched up the phone in the lounge. “Yep.”

  “Hello. It’s Bridget.”

  Ice didn’t coat her voice. She sounded... weary. “What’s up?”

  “I spoke to Kyle. He’s fine and understands why you’re attending the workshop. He’s making a... he’s going to surprise you with a present during your next visit. Art’s his favorite subject. I imagine he’ll be working hard on something while he’s at Jude’s.”

  The floor pretty much fell out from beneath Adam. What the hell? Bridget had gone to bat for him? She hadn’t used Kyle’s outburst to turn Adam’s own son against him? This was why he’d fallen madly in love with her. This was why he’d wanted to marry her. This was why she had the power to bring him to his knees. Never before had he met a woman who’d cast aside her own desires for those she loved, or those she didn’t love.

  Adam didn’t deserve Bridget’s compassionate, generous spirit. “Thank you.” I’m not supposed to love you anymore. I’m supposed to hate you for choosing Bible Boy over me. But I still love you. I’ll never stop loving you.

  “You don’t need to thank me. You’re Kyle’s father. I’m his caregiver. It’s my responsibility to help you build a healthy relationship with him.” Pain lingered in her words.

  She was hurting big time. She didn’t want to lose Kyle any more than Adam did. As bad as he felt, he couldn’t turn his son over to Bridget. The boy came from him. He’d helped create Kyle. “You’re one in a million.”

  “You should speak to Mrs. Dale. Kyle’s hoping you two can video chat. I told him Emery has a laptop you could use, but I’m not sure if video chatting is considered... well, visiting.”

  “I’ll ask The Hawk.” He’d phone the old bird tomorrow. Then she’d see he was sincere. He did want more than a weekly measly hour.

  “Okay. I’ll talk to you later. Bye.”

  “Wait.” The word hurled from Adam’s mouth. He gripped the phone. His heartbeat quickened.

  “What is it?”

  I miss you, kwe. I wish you’d give me a second chance. I wanna move on. I wanna forget you, us, but I can’t. “Uh... I... thanks.”

  “You’re welcome. Bye.”

  “Bridget?”

  “Yes?”

  “Why?”

  “Why what?”

  Adam cleared his throat. Damn, this was hard to ask. “Why’d you do it?”

  “Do what?”

  “Y’know. Why’d you help me?”

  “Because you’re his father, and although I didn’t give you a second chance, Kyle deserves to if you’re truly sincere this time.” The weariness in Bridget’s tone changed to her familiar snapping.

  Adam choked down his sputter. Boy, she really hated him. She’d never forgive him. Ever. “I am sincere.”

  “Then I’ll see you at the workshop. I simply wanted you to know your son and I had a long talk. Goodnight.”

  This time she hung up. The dial tone, snottier than Bridget’s attitude, buzzed in Adam’s ear. He slammed down the phone.

  * * * *

  Bridget set the cordless phone on the glass table. She lurched to the balcony’s railing. This was Mom and Dad’s fault. because from birth they’d filled her conscience with church doctrine. And the same for the Catholic school she’d attended. The same went for her former teachers. Also Father Arnold.

  Would the Catholic Church keep her company after Kyle left? Hell no. She’d be alone, cleaning Kyle’s bedroom after he disappeared with his dad, all because the pinch of guilt and her own strict morals had told her to do the right thing and defend Adam.

  So much for revenge. So much for making Adam pay. The only one paying was Bridget.

  She slumped in the wicker chair and hugged herself. A lump built in her throat. Tears stung her eyes. The ache in her heart swelled.

  * * * *

  Adam set the last of his shirts into the duffel bag.

  Logan sat in the chair beside the dresser.

  “When I get back, you’d better have gone to all your meetings.” Adam zipped the duffel bag.

  “I will. I will.”

  “Readings. Every night. Go for coffee with the old-timers. They’ll keep you busy until I get back. Sponsor’s orders.” Adam thrust his finger.

  “Chill, man. You don’t gotta go all parent on me.” Logan grinned, but his crooked smile didn’t match the sadness in his blue eyes.

  “You’ll be all right. My cab’s probably here. Gotta get. I don’t wanna miss my plane.” There was nothing to worry about. The kid would be okay on his own for a few days. Adam headed for the door.

  “Dude?”

  “Yeah?” He turned.

  Logan stood. He pulled at the hem of his shirt. His gaze traveled about. He licked his lips. “I wanna give you major props. Nobody’s done this for me before. Y’know? Nobody. You’re... I can’t believe the old bitch is giving you grief about your kid. Anybody would want you for a dad. Serious, man.”

  His begging, bright-blue eyes, glassy and full of need said, I wish you were my dad.

  “Hey...” Adam meandered over. He shifted the duffel bag. He held out his hand.

  Logan laid his palm in Adam’s. They tightened their fingers to a firm grip. Adam yanked the kid against him. He’d never hugged a grown man before, but patting Logan’s skinny back left a warm feeling as comforting as a gentle breeze in the pit of Adam’s stomach.

  “You’re gonna be fine. I’ll be back Friday night.”

  “I know, dude.” Logan’s words were muffled. “I know. Be good. Stay frosty.”

  “I will. The same for you, man.” Adam patted Logan’s back again. “I gotta bounce. I’ll see you on Friday. We’ll do chow somewhere. My treat. I’ll be hungry.”

  “Okay.” Logan continued to cling to Adam.

  For some reason, Adam loathed leaving Logan behind, just as he loathed having to miss seeing Kyle on Wednesday. The old-timers at the recovery meetings would tell Adam to put his trust in his higher power. They’d tell him everything would work out the way Creator had planned everything to work out.

  Chapter Nineteen: Brave New World

  Bridget hung her shirts on the hangers. The bedroom at Mom and Dad’s used to belong to Emery, before he’d moved out after graduating high school and relocated to Thunder Bay to attend university.

  Everyone used this room now, the only one available. If Jude visited, her brother and sister-in-law shared the double bed while the kids slept in sleeping bags on the living room floor.

  As for Kyle, he and Bridget bunked together. She’d better unpack her laptop right away so she could talk to him this evening.

  Mom poked her head in the bedroom. “We’ll go to the church soon. Your dad and Roy want to set up the tables.”

  “Are we keeping the stuff here or bringing it to the church?” Bridget hung the last shirt. She’d spend Saturday afternoon grocery shopping for the workshop. Food was extremely expensive in the north. To keep costs down, she’d purchased the supplies at the big outlets in the city and stowed them on the plane.

  “The church. Roy and George are hauling everything over from the airport right now.” Mom sat on the edge of the bed. Her painted pink nails skimmed her slim arm. “I thought you’d speak more about your date. How’s Stephen?”

  “I’m assuming he’s returned to Kenora. School starts tomorrow.”

  Gooseflesh spread across Mom’s arm she continued to knead. This meant she wanted to talk. She’d probably seen Adam’s name on the registry sheet. “You know I have the utmost faith in you to make the right decisions.”

  “I know.” Bridget emptied her toiletry bag on the dresser.

  “Adam’s parole officer must have had some concerns about him attending the workshop.” Mom’s light tone was stiffer than Dad’s clerical collar.

  “I don’t know. They must have talked. He told Kyle he wouldn’t see him this Wednesday.”

  “How did Kyle
take it?”

  Horribly. “Fine.”

  “Adam’s staying at Emery and Darryl’s.”

  “I know.”

  Mom sighed. “You used to share everything with me. After you met Adam...”

  Maybe Bridget had kept quiet because Mom and Dad had silently disapproved of her whirlwind romance that had led to an engagement in one year to an ex-convict.

  Her parents were right. She’d been a total fool. Was she one of those women who believed in reforming hard cases? No. Adam had reformed himself. They’d met when he’d had a year and a half of sobriety under his belt.

  “Bridget?”

  She set the can of mousse on the dresser. Mom wasn’t going to let their conversation end until she had answers. Bridget might as well give up the goods because Mom truly cared. “He’s trying his best to gain full custody of Kyle.”

  “Is he ready?”

  “I don’t know.” Bridget set the barrettes and other clips to tie back her hair next to the mousse. “He seems to be doing good. As far as I know, he attends his support meetings every night. He’s mentioned going to sweats. I don’t think he has a sponsor.”

  “He should have one.”

  “He only moved back over a month ago. It takes time for people in the program to find a good sponsor. I think he’s sponsoring someone.”

  “Oh?”

  “He’s a young man out of treatment. His name’s Logan. His girlfriend is the girl in care who was pulled from the river.”

  “Heavens.” Mom palmed her mouth.

  “Logan’s struggling. Adam’s helping him.”

  “Is this a good time for him to leave this young man alone?”

  “I don’t know Logan that well. IWA’s setting up a committee to look into Sheena Keesha’s death. From what I understand, she didn’t have anyone. Her mother’s dead. Her father’s in prison.”

  “You’ll be on the committee?”