“You sure you wanna do this?” Ken asked for the third time.
“Yeah. Gotta do this. Gotta see him.” A raw rash of pain continued to burn Adam’s chest. He’d let the kid down. He shouldn’t have gone to Healing the Spirit. Logan hadn’t been ready to be left alone, not after the loss he’d suffered.
“Okay.” Ken kept guiding them down Oliver Road to the hospital where Logan’s body rested. “When did you want to visit the funeral home?”
“It’s gotta be after work. Can you get me after three tomorrow at the restaurant?”
“Yessir. Can do.” Ken turned onto Keith Jobbitt Drive.
Adam’s burning chest constricted at the big hospital, a place he’d never visited before. In about fifteen minutes, he’d see Logan for the last time.
* * * *
Bridget cleared the dinner dishes. Dad sat at the dining room table, having finally come inside after standing on the deck, smoking.
Bandit pressed her nose against the glass on the sliding doors, barking.
“We should get going. I think she’s hungry.” Emery stood.
“She’s always hungry.” Darryl also stood.
Bridget headed into the kitchen and placed the plates on the counter.
Emery followed. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Although he said nothing more, his soothing gaze and warm palm squeezing her shoulder reassured Bridget. He used the hallway off the kitchen to exit the house while Darryl used the living room to leave. At least someone was on her side.
She’d probably get an earful from Mom and Dad pretty quick. While Mom saw Emery and Darryl out, Bridget filled the sink and tackled the dishes. She turned her head to spy Dad staring at his book, since the kitchen gave a clear view of the dining room.
Mom shuffled into the kitchen. She swiped up a tea towel and reached for a plate to dry.
They worked in suffocating silence for fifteen minutes, tension creeping along Bridget’s backside. After the last glass and final pot was stored away, Mom motioned at the dining room table where Dad still sat, reading.
“Did you want some lemonade?”
“No. I’m gonna turn in.” Bridget planned on calling Adam. He was an hour ahead and should be at the halfway house soon. She glanced at the clock above the stove. A half an hour to wait.
Dad cleared his throat. “Why don’t you join us?”
A smidgen of heat appeared in Bridget’s stomach. Dad hadn’t spoken to her after she’d spent the night with Adam at the motel. Before that, her father’s words had been nothing more than rudimentary greetings.
The word no invaded Bridget’s mouth. “Sure.” She hung the tea towel to dry and joined him in the dining room.
Mom filled three fresh drinks.
Dad set aside his reading glasses. “How’s my grandson?”
“Good. I told him I’d see him on Saturday and explained we have to attend a service for his dad’s friend.” Bridget sipped the lemonade. The cold liquid loosened the tension in her throat. Please don’t let me get mad, God. Please don’t let him push my buttons.
Dad rubbed his brow. The gesture meant he had something unpleasant to say and he was searching for the right words. “I’ve worked with lots of men and women incarcerated at our police building before they’re shipped off to the city.”
Bridget nodded. Mentioning the jail meant Dad would speak about Adam.
“Understand, I respect what Adam tried to do this week. And I’m sorry he had to leave.” Dad’s voice remained low, lacking his usual authoritative tone. “I know he hasn’t led an easy life. I meet many individuals like Adam who grew up as he did. Our reserve isn’t perfect. You’re aware many still smuggle alcohol and drugs into the community.”
Again, Bridget nodded and gripped the glass of lemonade.
“I know I haven’t said much to you this week.” Dad let out a heavy breath and sat back in the chair. “I respect the decisions you make. You’re a grown woman and did extremely well for yourself. What you did for Kyle was a selfless act and took courage. I’m sure at the time you didn’t wish to report Adam to Children and Family Services when he... relapsed.”
Dad pressed his lips together. “Your mother told you about my own relapse.”
“She did.”
“Marriage is a sacrament. It’s for life. Both must commit themselves to the vows they take. At times, one struggles or both struggle. I was fortunate your mother had the faith to tolerate my weakness.
“I know this isn’t my business, but for Kyle’s sake, are you sure about allowing Adam another chance? I would gladly officiate at your wedding, as I did at Jude’s, if you’re one hundred percent sure this is what you desire.”
The tightness in Bridget’s throat dissipated. Dad was giving his approval? He’d respect whatever decision she made? He wasn’t trying to guilt her into being the obedient girl and cutting Adam loose?
“But...” Dad raised his finger, something he’d always done over the years to get his point across. “Only if you’re one hundred percent sure. If you have any doubts, I highly advise you listen to them.
“I have nothing against Adam. Try to remember, he may spend the rest of his life battling his demons. He was born into a tough environment. Very tough. With his criminal record, his chances for sound employment are highly unlikely. The majority of jobs nowadays require criminal reference checks.”
Listening to Dad speak to her like a child prickled Bridget’s skin. His voice was a cactus. “I’m aware of everything that you said. Did you wonder if I’m still considering whether I want to pursue a relationship with Adam?”
Dad sputtered. “I presume so since you... well, err, stayed out the other night.”
“I’ve already considered everything you told me. I know Adam’s chances for a decent job aren’t good. He also knows it.”
“This hasn’t been easy for me. We’ve never been on the same page, much less the same book.” Dad’s gaze studied her. “Perhaps because we’re too much alike. Neither of us like being told what to do. Don’t think I wasn’t as rebellious when I was a child. I was in constant trouble with the priests and nuns because of my refusal to listen and obey.”
Like Dad? Bridget swallowed her gasp. She was nothing like Dad. Well, she’d better not be.
“We’ll stay at Jude’s while were in the city.” Dad cleared his throat. “You probably want to call Adam and see how he’s doing.”
At least Bridget had gotten half an approval from Dad. Too bad she’d never get the full approval. “I’m going to turn in. Adam’ll be home soon.”
She stood and was about to enter the kitchen.
“Bridget...” Dad’s voice was supple.
She stopped and turned. He rarely used this tone. His pitch-black eyes were as soft as his voice.
“I only want you to be happy. It seems lately my children are forcing me to keep an open mind and take a more tolerant approach, something I’ve never been successful at. I know my vision’s quite tunnel. Don’t think I haven’t noticed all that you’ve done through the years.”
Dad was giving more than half his approval. He was giving his full approval. Bridget’s heart thumped. If she decided to give Adam a second chance, the only hurdle they had to face was Mrs. Dale, who didn’t hide her contempt for the man Bridget loved.
Chapter Thirty-one: I Know What You Need
Adam had left the recovery meeting by himself, had boarded the bus by himself, and had returned to the halfway house by himself. He flicked aside the cigarette butt and trudged into the building. The sound of the TV drifted from the main room. Two guys sat at a table, playing cards. Adam gave them a curt nod and went straight for his room.
Before he closed the door, someone hollered, “Guimond, phone.”
The caller must be Bridget. Adam dragged his feet back to the main room and picked up the telephone. His heart didn’t patter. Excitement didn’t judder down his spine. He was as gray as the shell left of Logan in the morgue.
“Hello.” He
dropped in the old chair.
“Hi. It’s me. I wanted to see how you’re doing.” Bridget’s concern floated through the receiver.
“Okay.” His voice couldn’t even produce a hint of cheerfulness.
“Please don’t do this to me,” she begged.
“Kwe, there’s nothing for me to say.” Keeping his voice quiet wasn’t difficult with the two card players peeking in Adam’s direction. The despondent whisper had easily rolled off his tongue.
“Why not?” This time Bridget’s tone shifted to her familiar stubborn mode.
“Little hard to talk with an audience. I’ll be okay, kwe. I’ll see you on Saturday.”
Would he be able to see Kyle? The Hawk was strict about the guidelines. Something else to add to Adam’s plate of misery. It wasn’t his fault Kyle was attending the service. Still, the old crab was going to give Adam never-ending grief. She probably had some rule about a foster parent seeing a biological parent who required supervised visits.
* * * *
“I went to the funeral home. I have the bill.” Jude’s voice carried over the phone that Bridget had set on speaker.
The family sat around the dining room table at Mom and Dad’s.
Adam had called Bridget last night, letting her know the cost and all the red tape involved if the province covered the expense. He’d been annoyed, but she’d managed to talk down his anger by reassuring him her family would foot the bill. Since Logan was in the process of being cremated, the expense wouldn’t run into quadruple digits. Nor was the funeral home hosting the service. Father Arnold had graciously allowed the family to use the basement at Saint Patrick’s parish to host the memorial.
“Thank you. Thank you so much, big brother.” Bridget’s heart fluttered at Jude’s generosity. “I’ll call Adam and let him know everything’s taken care of.”
“Dorothy called,” Mom piped in. “The women will have sandwiches, dainties, and refreshments after the memorial. Members of the church will also be there.”
“Oh my God.” Bridget gasped. The Catholic Women’s Association was even involved. “I don’t know what to say.”
“After your years of service to the Association, why are you surprised?” Mom shook her head. “This is the purpose of the CWA.”
“I just didn’t expect all this.” If only Adam was here. Funny how Bridget’s heart had already decided what her brain had mulled over since Adam had first arrived in Thunder Bay.
She belonged to Adam Jean Marc Guimond. There was no need to think any longer. She’d forgiven him some time over the last month and a half. As much as her parents’ story had frightened her, Bridget couldn’t walk away. Adam was a once-in-a-lifetime man. Yes, he’d messed up, but he was still fighting for a normal life to give himself, to give her, and to give Kyle.
Bridget held the phone against her ear while packing the suitcase laid out on the double bed in the spare bedroom. Adam couldn’t be held responsible for being in the presence of his son during a service, but she wanted to notify Mrs. Dale of Saturday’s memorial, so their caseworker didn’t get the wrong idea. Bridget also had to speak about their relationship and how this impacted her care for Kyle.
“Mrs. Dale.”
“Good afternoon. It’s Bridget Matawapit calling.”
“Ms. Matawapit, what can I do for you?”
“I’m flying out early from a workshop I was volunteering at due to an emergency. Unfortunately, there was a death.”
“I’m sorry to hear about this. My condolences.” Perfunctory were Mrs. Dale’s words, much like the obligatory pat on the back from a well-wisher.
“Thank you.” Bridget fiddled with her travel case. “I wanted to inform you that the memorial service Kyle and I are attending Saturday evening will include his father.”
“Oh? You do know of the—”
“I’m aware of the policies. I do have the manual you gave me. This is why I’m calling. I can’t help that Adam and Kyle will attend the same memorial.”
“I will make a note in your file. Kindly limit their communication during—”
No way. “Look...” Bridget used her firmest tone. “Kyle is seven years old, and he’s been through enough already. I refuse to tell him he can’t speak to his father during a memorial at our church. I know the rules. Adam’s encounters must be supervised, but there will be many people in attendance.”
She clicked her nails against the travel case, waiting on Mrs. Dale, who was no doubt reviewing the policy manual for contingency encounters.
“Ms. Matawapit, I will allow this once. Only once. Next time, however, before committing to—”
“This is a memorial service for a young man who Adam and I both knew. I will commit to such an event again, if, God forbid, we lose another we care about.”
This woman and her rules were an itch from a mosquito bite, prickling beneath Bridget’s skin. Ottertail Lake’s Family Services Worker, along with the chief and band council, wouldn’t have hesitated at having Kyle and Adam in the same room during a funeral. They put the welfare of the child first—the child’s right to attend a memorial service, and the child’s right to be present with his foster mother and his biological father. All Mrs. Dale cared about were her precious rules and policies.
“Are you challenging my authority?” Ice coated Mrs. Dale’s question.
“I’m not challenging anything. I’m being realistic. Thank you for granting permission. Enjoy your weekend, and goodbye.”
Bridget ended the call and tossed her cell on the bed. Boy, when the cantankerous caseworker found out Adam was back in Bridget’s life, the super-stern Mrs. Dale might threaten to put Kyle in another foster home. Bridget squeezed her fist.
If Mrs. Dale wanted to make this tough, she’d met her match. Nobody had answered about Sheena Keesha’s death yet, even when the girl had been in care. As her father, Cutter had a right to demand an investigation.
When Bridget returned to Thunder Bay, first on the agenda, after Logan’s memorial service, she’d call a meeting of the committee.
Bridget was up, readying breakfast now that she was home. Kyle sat in front of the TV, watching Saturday morning cartoons. They’d leave soon for Jude’s place, where Mom, Dad, Emery, and Darryl had slept.
The memorial was at six this evening, which allowed Adam enough time to get off work and head to the halfway house to shower and change. Now that everything was cleared with Mrs. Dale, Bridget would offer Adam a ride to the church.
Once she dished up the oatmeal and had Kyle eating his breakfast, much to his protests because he always had to dine at the table and not in front of the TV, Bridget called Adam’s work place to leave a message.
The sun was out, and she plopped in one of the wicker chairs on the balcony to enjoy the warm breeze and coffee.
“Good morning. Benny’s Restaurant. How can I help you?”
“Good morning. This is Bridget Matawapit calling. I need to leave a message for Adam Guimond.”
“Sure thing,” the girl replied in a voice that matched the cheerful shining sun. “Go ahead.”
“Let him know Bridget called. I’ll pick him up for the service at five o’clock today.”
“Got it. I’ll be sure he gets the message.”
“Thanks.” Bridget hung up, her skim shimmering. She’d done it. They’d ride together like a true family to Logan’s memorial service.
She dashed inside to find Kyle in front of the TV, holding his bowl of oatmeal. “You’re supposed to eat at the table.” She’d wait on telling him the good news.
“Aww, please, Mom?” Kyle asked through a mouthful of food.
Bridget’s joy-filled chest wasn’t in the mood to lecture. “Okay. This one time. I’m going to shower.”
Around eleven, after Bridget had finished dressing and cleaning up the kitchen, the phone rang. She scooped the cordless off the counter, her heart singing because the number was Benny’s. “Hello.”
“Kwe?”
“Are you on your break?�
��
“Yeah. Got the message.” Adam’s voice remained solemn. He cleared his throat. “You don’t gotta get me. I’ll meet you there.”
“Why?” She didn’t mean to snap, but the wrench in her exciting plan was a knife poking at her stomach.
“Don’t be that way.” Begging coated Adam’s reply. “The Hawk called me yesterday before she left the office. Gave me eight hundred fucking rules to follow for today—”
“Mrs. Dale did what?” The breakfast from earlier curdled in Bridget’s stomach. The nerve of that woman.
“You heard me.” He’d almost barked his words. No doubt Adam felt the same frustration as Bridget.
“If I can’t get you, then I’ll get someone to. I won’t let you take the bus. This is Logan’s memorial service.”
“Nothing wrong with the bus. Took ‘em all the time.”
“Jude and Charlene will take his truck. Mom and Dad always use Charlene’s SUV when they’re in the city. They’ll get you.”
“Your folks?” Adam grunted.
“Emery and Darryl normally ride with them. But I’ll have to drive them so Mom and Dad can get you.”
“Kwe, I’m cool taking the bus.”
“If you’re going to be stubborn about this, I’ll get you then.” Screw Mrs. Dale and her rules, and enough of people dictating Bridget’s life. “I’ll be there at five—sharp. Bye.”
* * * *
Adam tucked his cigarettes into his shirt pocket. The only decent shirt he had. The same shirt he’d worn when visiting Kyle for the second time. Bridget was too stubborn. If The Hawk found out Adam had hitched a ride, she’d toss her clipboard at him. Maybe even tell his PO about his supposed rule-breaking and then she’d suspend his visitations.
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