When We Found Home

by Susan Mallery

  “Wasn’t all that excited to have you show up?”

  “No. Jerry wasn’t interested. Grandfather Alberto took one look at me and was sure. Jerry insisted on a DNA test. I went through all that with my mother and I was still scared. Keira doesn’t have anyone.”

  “You’re wrong. She has us.” She pointed to the sofa. “Sit. You make me nervous when you loom.”

  One corner of his mouth turned up. “I don’t loom.”

  “You are the loom king.”

  “I always wanted to be royalty.”

  They looked at each other. Callie drew in a breath. “Malcolm, she’s scared every minute of every day. That’s what this essay tells us. She’s not sure of her place in the world. She’s not sure of her place in your world and for reasons that are totally not clear to me, you’re the one who matters.”

  He grimaced. “I don’t know what to do. The school counselor gave me a list of psychologists. I have a call in to three of them to get her started with that. I should have done it from the beginning. But what else? How do I make her feel safe?”

  Callie wished she had the magic answer, but she didn’t. “Start spending time with her. Don’t get all scary and insist you hang out for the day, but try to find ten or fifteen minutes where you can just talk to her. Ask about school, show interest in Lizzy, regular stuff.”

  As she spoke she wondered how regular Malcolm really was. He’d lived a fairly rarefied life for a while now, not to mention solitary. Yes, he had Grandfather Alberto and Carmen, but how much did he really interact with them? She didn’t think there was a regular girlfriend, and Malcolm didn’t strike her as the type to go from woman to woman.

  “I’ll help with Keira,” she added. “We’re already becoming friends. She’s fun and smart and I really like her. Oh, and she’s doing a great job with Lizzy.”

  He swore under his breath. “I never thought about that. I never checked on that damned cat. For all I knew, she could have been starving.”

  “She could have been but she isn’t. As Maya Angelou said, ‘I did then what I knew how to do. Now that I know better, I do better.’ You need to think about that as you deal with Keira. If you spend all your time beating yourself up, then it’s still about you rather than Keira.”

  “You have interesting taste in books.”

  “While I was incarcerated, I had a lot of time to read.”

  He looked at her. “I really screwed up.”

  “Yes, you did. Now you can fix it.”

  “You’re not sympathetic.”

  “I actually am, but you don’t need sympathy right now.” She thought about all that he’d told her, then circled back to their mutual parent. “Tell me about Jerry.”

  Malcolm’s face tightened and his body went stiff. “You should talk to your grandfather about him. You’ll get a better story.”

  “What if I want the truth?”

  “Go talk to Grandfather Alberto.”

  She wondered what had happened between Malcolm and his father. Whatever it was, Malcolm was still dealing with the damage.

  “You don’t want Keira to feel about you the way you feel about him,” she said softly. “You have a chance to fix all of it. Don’t blow it.”

  She thought he might get mad but instead he nodded. “I’m going to make it right.”

  “That’s a great goal. Be consistent and take it slow. Otherwise, you’ll scare the crap out of her.”

  “I promise to be measured.”

  “If you’re not, I’m going to pull you aside and show you the error of your ways.”

  He surprised her by grinning. “Of that, I have no doubt.”

  chapter thirteen

  Malcolm decided to give himself the night to process everything he’d learned. He heard back from two of the psychologists and based on a half hour phone call with each of them, had picked the one he wanted Keira to see. He’d set up a two-hour intro session where he would attend the first hour, then he’d scheduled her once a week for the foreseeable future.

  He’d had the sense to check her online calendar so the appointments didn’t conflict with any school activities. Now he just had to talk to her about all of it.

  He waited until midmorning on Saturday before going to her room and knocking.

  “Come in.”

  He found Keira and Lizzy in the playroom Carmen had decorated. They were both on the floor. Keira had her schoolbooks spread out on the ottoman and Lizzy was playing with a small fabric mouse.

  “Hi,” he said, dropping to the floor a few feet away. “How’s it going?”

  Keira’s mouth tightened and she instantly looked wary. “Fine.”

  “I wanted to talk to you about—”

  She jumped to her feet. “It’s the essay, right? I’m sorry. I was mad. I didn’t mean any of it. I’m fine. I’m happy to be here. Really, really happy. It’s all good.”

  He’d heard the expression about a breaking heart dozens of times, but he’d never felt it before. The combination of fear and pain in his sister’s voice shattered him and he felt his heart split into pieces that could never be made whole.

  “Keira, it’s okay,” he said, his voice as gentle as he could make it. “I mean that. I’m not mad and no one is ever going to send you away. I swear.”

  Doubt lingered in her eyes, but she sat back down and pulled Lizzy close.

  “Okay,” she said slowly.

  He thought about Callie’s Maya Angelou quote and told himself he now knew better. “I’m sorry you don’t think of this house as your home. It is.” How to convince her? How to make her see that they wouldn’t ever want her to leave?

  A thought occurred—one that would make sense to the savvy almost-teen.

  “You own a third of the house.”

  She blinked at him. “What?”

  “Okay, not you, but your trust. Grandfather Alberto has deeded the house to all three of us. It’s in a legal trust, which means there are restrictions, but those are about age. You can’t do anything with it, like try to sell your third, until you’re thirty-five, but it’s still yours.”

  Her expression morphed from doubtful to wary. “For sure?”

  “Yes. You can ask Callie. She’ll confirm it. No one wants you to leave. You’re part of this family.” He thought about all she’d been through.

  “I’m sorry I haven’t made more time for you,” he continued. “I should have realized all you were going through. You lost your mom and Carl and—”

  “Angelina,” she corrected. “She’s transgender and wants to transition.”

  “Right. Angelina. Sorry.”

  “Imagine how they feel.”

  He chuckled. “Excellent point. What I’m trying to say is you have a lot going on and I’m sorry I haven’t been there to help. I’m not very good with children.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  He winced. “I don’t get a break at all?”

  “No way. I don’t trust you.”

  A kick to the gut, but one he’d earned. “I’m sorry. I hope I can change that.”

  She held Lizzy more tightly and wouldn’t meet his gaze.

  “Would you be willing to speak to a therapist?” he asked. “I think it would help for you to have a safe place to talk to someone who is only on your side.”

  “Would you go, too?”

  “To the first session. Then you’d be by yourself. I’ll drive you, but you’ll have total privacy with the therapist.”

  “If she wants you to do something, do you have to do it?”

  He didn’t like ceding control, but in this case, he didn’t have a choice. “Yes.”

  “Just like that?”

  He nodded. “Keira, you’re my sister. I’m sorry I haven’t acted like your brother, but that is going to change. You belong here. You and Lizzy are family.
It’s new and complicated, but we’ll make it work. I want that.” He hesitated. “I don’t want to be the asshole brother anymore.”

  “You’re not,” she blurted, then flushed.

  He knew better than to assume he’d moved up the food chain. For all he knew he was now worse than an asshole in her eyes. “What am I?”

  “The jerky brother.”

  “Is a jerk better than an asshole?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Duh. Everybody knows that.”

  “Just checking. And for the record, my next goal is to be the slightly annoying brother.”

  One corner of her mouth twitched. “That’s a lot to put in my contact list.”

  “You could abbreviate.”

  “SAB?”

  “See? It works.”

  She smiled. “I’ll think about it.”

  “Thank you. So Tuesdays at six thirty we are going to see the psychologist. I would ask you to give it a couple of sessions before making a decision about whether you like her or not.”

  “You mean if I don’t like her, I don’t have to go?”

  “I want you to see someone, but if you don’t like this one, we’ll find another one. You have to feel comfortable enough to talk about what’s going on or there’s no point in the sessions.”

  “You’re giving me a lot of power.”

  “Can you handle it?”

  “I’ll try.”

  “Thank you.” He stood and wondered how to leave her room in a nurturing “of course I care about you” way. Before he could figure it out, she stood and threw herself at him, hanging on in a tight hug.

  He put his arms around her and was surprised by how small she felt. How fragile. He hugged her back.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “About all of it.”

  “That’s okay.”

  “It’s not and I’m going to do better. I promise.”

  She pulled back and looked at him. “I want to believe you.”

  “Give me a couple of weeks and then we’ll talk about this again. You make your decision then. How’s that?”

  “Good.”

  He nodded at her stack of books. “I’ll leave you to manage all that. Unless you want me to go over your assignments with you. Maybe schedule what homework you should do in what order. I could make a flowchart.”

  “Oh. My. God! No flowchart. And don’t hover. It’s creepy.”

  He laughed as he headed for the door. “There are a lot of rules.”

  “Maybe I should put them in a flowchart.”

  “I’d really like that.”

  “Of course you would.”

  Malcolm walked back to his study hoping progress had been made. He had a lot of work to do, but this time he was determined not to let it slide. He’d hurt Keira—not intentionally, but she’d still ended up wounded and that was all on him.

  Not-so-benign neglect. Ironic that after all this time, it seemed he was a lot more like his father than he wanted to admit.

  * * *

  Santiago waited until midafternoon to show up at the house. He’d spent the morning figuring out a game plan, because with a woman like Callie, he was going to need one. She was amazing and he had to be worthy.

  He wasn’t just going to call or text to ask her out. No, he would do it in person, and he would take the time to tell her about himself so she would be comfortable with him. He was going to be honest—sharing the good and the bad—because she deserved that.

  He stopped and got flowers—a really nice bouquet with lots of orchids and roses. It was huge, so he bought a vase, too, because what if she didn’t have one? She’d just moved and why would she have brought a vase? Carmen would know where one was, but that was different. So he carefully placed the bouquet and the vase in the back seat of his Escalade, then drove out to Malcolm’s house.

  He sat in the driveway for several minutes, trying to figure out what he was going to say, only to have Carmen tap on his window. He rolled it down.

  “What are you doing?” she asked. “Are you sick?”

  “No, just thinking.”

  “Malcolm’s not here.”

  “I came to see Callie.”

  Carmen’s brown eyes crinkled with laughter. “So that’s the way it is, is it? All right, you foolish man. You come in when you’re ready.”

  “No, wait.” He got out of the SUV. “Can you ask her to come downstairs?”

  “Of course, but you could go up to her room, if you wanted.”

  “No. I couldn’t do that.” It wouldn’t be right. “Ask her to come down, but don’t tell her why.” He hesitated. “Do you think you should tell her it’s me? I met her yesterday, but only for a second and we didn’t really talk. No, don’t say it’s me.”

  “You are loco in the head.”

  “Maybe.”

  “I’ll ask her to come down and other than that, I’m not getting involved.”

  “That’s good. I’ll wait in the living room. Is that okay? Do you think I should wait somewhere else?”

  Carmen threw up her hands and walked back to the house. Santiago grabbed the flowers and the vase and hurried after her. When they were inside, she pointed toward the living room.

  “Go in there. Sit down. Don’t move until Callie shows up. Is that clear?”

  He nodded. “Very. Yes. Thank you.”

  The large formal living room had three fabric-covered sofas forming a U, with smaller chairs scattered around. There was some kind of wallpaper and lots of little tables. He’d never spent any time in the room and now that he perched on the edge of a narrow sofa, he found he kind of liked the space. It was a little fussy for his taste, but still appealing.

  He put the flowers on the sofa next to him, then moved them to the table. He set the vase by the flowers, before putting it on the carpet. He was about to move it again when he sensed movement and looked up.

  Callie stood in the wide doorway, her expression two parts wary, one part confused.

  She was so beautiful, he thought, coming to his feet. She wore a long-sleeved tunic top over leggings. She had on Uggs and her hair was pulled back in a simple ponytail. She wasn’t wearing jewelry or makeup, not even lip gloss, he realized as his gaze locked on her curved, full lips.

  “Can I help you?” she asked.

  “Yes. I mean, no, I’m here to see you.” He reached for the flowers and held them out in front of him, like a sword. “These are for you.”

  He held in a groan. Everything about this was wrong, he thought. Awkward and forced. What had happened to his easy charm with women? He’d known how to get his way with the ladies since he was fifteen. What the hell was wrong with him?

  “You brought me flowers?” she asked, not moving closer.

  “Yes, and a vase.”

  “Why?”

  “I didn’t know if you had a vase.”

  She smiled. “I meant why did you bring me flowers?”

  “Because you should have them.”

  Carmen walked past her into the room. She carried a tray over to the coffee table in front of him and set it down. There was a pot of coffee, two mugs and a plate of Italian cookies.

  “He’s not as deranged as he sounds,” she assured Callie. “Just a little weird, but we love him all the same.” She poked him in the chest. “Ask her to sit down, you moron.”

  Still holding the flowers, he motioned to the sofa. “Would you like to sit down?”

  “Okay.”

  She sounded cautious, which he guessed made sense. She didn’t know him—yet. Carmen shook her head and left. Callie took a seat on one end of the sofa. He put the flowers on the coffee table in front of her, along with the vase, then perched on the opposite end of the couch. He immediately jumped up and poured them both coffee.

  “Do you take anything in your coffee?” he ask
ed.

  “Black is fine.”

  He handed her the mug and then held out the plate of cookies. He noted there were shortbreads dipped in chocolate and mentally thanked Carmen for bringing something with chocolate. Women tended to like chocolate and he wanted Callie to be happy.

  When he’d poured himself some coffee, he sat back down and smiled at her. “Malcolm tells me you’re from Texas and before that Oklahoma.”

  She glanced at him. “Okay, sure.”

  “I’ve been to Dallas a few times. I’ve never been to Oklahoma. Did you like it?”

  “It was fine.”

  There was a moment of silence. He cleared his throat. “So are you enjoying Seattle?”

  “What I’ve seen of it. There’s a lot of green. I didn’t expect that. Houston, where I lived before, has lots of trees, but it’s different. Flat, for one thing. I didn’t know about all the mountains.”

  “Have you been hiking?” he asked. “Probably not, you haven’t been here that long. Maybe when it stops raining, we can go. It can be really beautiful. There are a lot of trails, even locally. At some point I’d like to get a dog—a big one to take hiking.”

  “Not a little one you have to carry?” Her voice was teasing.

  He smiled at her. “I’m not the little dog type.”

  “How would you know? Maybe you’d enjoy a Chihuahua or a dachshund.”

  “I don’t think so. How are things going with Keira?”

  She relaxed and settled back against the sofa. “Good. She’s really sweet and fun to hang out with. It’s strange to suddenly have a sister, but if I had to pick, I’d pick her. We’re still getting to know each other but I’m hoping we’ll be close.”

  “And with Malcolm?”

  Callie glanced at him, then looked away. “He’s good, too.”

  The complete change in her voice had him chuckling. “You don’t hide your feelings very well, do you?”