Changing Her Plans (Santa Fe Bobcats)

by Jeanette Murray

  She looked around the hallway, then decided not to risk it. She stepped in and closed the office door behind her, shutting out even Frank’s frantic typing. “Coach Barnes received some news a few minutes ago. His sister was killed in a car accident.”

  Coach Jordan laid his palms flat on the table and stood. “Damn,” he muttered. “Is he still here?”

  “He is,” Kristen said slowly, then shook her head when it looked as if the coach was going to walk out. “No, sir, he’s not in a great place right now. I think he would be… He’s not in a good place. He would rather be alone, I think. I came to tell you he’s going to be taking today—probably the rest of the week—off.”

  The head coach nodded, sitting down in his chair again with a heavy thud. As if he’d lost the steam to hold himself up. “That’s all the family he had. Parents are gone. I know he said that.”

  “He has a nephew. In fact, that’s the other thing I needed to ask you about. Do you…” Gather courage, girl. Clay needs you. “Do you know any lawyers familiar with custody and adoption? She only lived on the other side of the city, so there’s no state line crossing to worry about, but—”

  “Did he send you in here to ask that?” Coach Jordan’s dark brows rose in surprise.

  “No, but he’s also not really in a place to be thinking about these things. His nephew is barely a year old,” she added with some urgency. “He’s at the day care for now, but I’m sure Clay wants to pick him up before the end of the day. He’ll need someone who can work the channels and get that approved, even temporarily, now.”

  “I know a guy. I looked into it when Cassie first came into my life.” Coach Jordan huffed out a laugh. “Even though she was way past the whole adoption and custody stage. I just…CYA and all that.”

  “Of course,” Kristen murmured, not quite comfortable with hearing this private tidbit of one of the men she worked for. “I’ll begin making calls for him. Oh, and I wanted to let you know I would be taking the rest of the week off as well.”

  Now Coach Jordan’s surprise cranked up a notch. He rested back in his chair, observing her with dark eyes. “For?”

  “He needs help,” she said simply, praying that was enough.

  “It’s not part of your job description. In fact, I think this is way outside of it.”

  “I realize that. Bobcat family sticks together though, right?”

  At that, Coach Jordan’s shoulders relaxed a bit. “If you’re sure. I’ll text you the number in a minute after I find it.”

  “Thank you, sir.” Kristen walked to the door but paused when the coach said her name. “Yes?”

  “Look after him,” was all Coach Jordan said before looking down through his phone.

  “I’ll work on it,” she said under her breath, leaving his office. As she closed the door behind her, she walked past Frank to head to Clay’s office. Frank made a throat-clearing sound but didn’t ask what she was up to. When she walked in, she saw Trey and Josh talking to each other, ignoring the pile of binders on the table in front of them.

  “Gentlemen,” she said, smiling a little when they both jolted at the sound, like naughty children caught breaking the rules. “Coach Barnes won’t be coming back today to finish working with you. In fact, he will be out for the rest of the week, maybe part of the next.”

  Trey stood, concern written all over his face. “Did something happen? Can we help?” Josh stood behind him, a silent offer of support.

  The show made Kristen smile wider. “You’re good guys, you know that? Nothing can be done right now, but keep your cell phones nearby. I have a feeling the coach might need something.”

  She waited for them to take off before rummaging through his desk—privacy could take a backseat today—finding his keys and his wallet. After shutting his computer down and turning off the lights, she locked his office door and went back to get him. Just as she hit the conference door, her phone buzzed. She pulled it out to see Coach Jordan had been true to his word. The name of an attorney, his phone number, and the words, “expecting your call, ready to drop everything and work with Clay” were there.

  Thank you for having coworkers in high places.

  She stood outside the conference room for a moment, watching him through the small sliver of glass in the door. Clay’s head was bowed, resting in his hands, his entire posture slumped forward as if he could barely hold himself up. As if he weren’t sure he wanted to keep trying.

  So, for now, she’d be the one holding him up.

  Chapter 13

  The walls were beige. The desk he continuously bounced his knees against was beige. The chair he sat in, even the muted sounds coming from the hallway beyond the closed office door could only be described as…beige.

  Clay rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. “How much longer…”

  “If I told you to be patient, would it help?”

  Clay glanced at Kristen, really looking at her for the first time since they’d sat down in the office over an hour ago. It was nearing five in the evening, and she’d been with him the entire time. Since the minute he’d left the Bobcats offices and headed for the police station to do the worst thing in his life—officially claim Amanda’s body—to now, in the social work offices, Kristen had been his shadow. Minus a few trips to the vending machine, the coffeepot in the staff area, or the restroom, she hadn’t left his side. Hadn’t stopped touching him either. As if she were afraid he might bolt if her touch weren’t there to soothe him.

  She might have been right.

  The door behind them opened, startling them both.

  “Mr. Barnes?” An African-American woman who looked to be in her fifties walked through the open door, closing it behind them. She wore a suit jacket that looked wrinkled, a long skirt, and flats that sounded like they stuck to the beige tile as she walked.

  “Yes.”

  “And…” The woman looked up expectantly at Kristen while sitting behind her desk. “I’m sorry, it doesn’t say you’re married, Mr. Barnes. You are?”

  “A friend,” Kristen said simply, reaching out to hold his hand.

  “Uh-huh.” The woman shrugged and looked back at her chart. “Well, Mr. Barnes—”

  “Clay,” he corrected.

  “Clay then. Your paperwork from your lawyer is all in order, your initial background check was approved. There will be no issues with your taking Stanley home with you this evening, keeping him until a more permanent situation can be arranged.”

  “I’m his permanent situation.” Clay leaned forward, and something in his expression must have been fierce, because the social worker scooted her rolling desk chair back a fraction. “He’s staying with me. I’m the only living relative of his, period. No grandparents, no other aunts or uncles. I’d bet like hell my sister’s will names me as guardian.”

  “That may be, but the child’s father still has to be notified, given the opportunity to—”

  “He’s nowhere. I have no clue who he is. I doubt he’s even on Stan’s birth certificate. You want to look for him? Fine. But my sister never named the guy, and my best guess is, there’s a damn good reason for that.”

  “I’m required by law to do my due diligence, Mr. Barnes.” Folding her arms over the desk, the woman gave him a no-nonsense stare. “I understand the situation, and I’ll be frank, he would likely be just fine with you. But I’m required to search, regardless.”

  “Understood,” Kristen put in, rubbing his forearm. “Of course we do. You all work so hard. We’re grateful you were there for Stanley. Truly.”

  The social worker’s face softened, just a tad. Nice work, Kristen. He was too torn up to be calm. Rational. To play nice with the woman who was just doing her job.

  “When can I see him? Is he still at the day care center? It’s going to close soon.”

  Kristen squeezed firmly, and he knew it was her way of silently telling him to ease back. Forcing a calm into his voice he was far from truly feeling, Clay added, “Please.”

 
“Stanley is already here. Once the paperwork was approved, we had one of our field agents run and grab him. Let’s go down to the family meeting rooms. He’ll be thrilled to see a familiar face.”

  Clay stood on wobbly legs. He was finally getting the thing he wanted most—to see Stanley—and his body wouldn’t cooperate.

  Kristen looped her arm through his and tugged gently until he was all but leaning against him. “Hey, how about you introduce me to that nephew of yours? I heard all about him this weekend. Let’s see what he’s up to.”

  They followed the social worker down the hall, each step feeling like a mile until she reached a door painted bright blue. The words Family Room were painted down the side, with butterflies and flowers decorating around it.

  “Stanley is in here with one of our other employees. You’re welcome to go in and see him.” She knocked once, then opened the door.

  He heard a squeal first, then his nephew’s gibberish language. And when he stepped fully inside, he watched Stan’s eyes light up. His gummy smile—a little on the drooly side—grew, and he clapped his hands from his seat on the floor. The room had soft carpet, a table with four chairs, and a ton of toys and books lining one wall.

  “What’s this room for?” Kristen asked as Clay walked in.

  “For families who require supervised visits. They can come here, to a neutral zone, and have their time with their children. And it’s also helpful for moments like these.”

  Clay heard them continue to chat, but he simply sat down on the floor by the door to watch his nephew hand a toy to the employee who sat beside him. Then Stanley crawled over to Clay and plopped in his lap.

  “Hey, big guy. Hey, Stan the Man,” Clay whispered, unsure what to say. What to do. He’d babysat for the kid a dozen times or more. He knew how to take care of him. But this…this wasn’t for a few hours. This wasn’t an overnight visit. This…was forever.

  God. Forever. Because Amanda was dead.

  Stanley patted his cheeks, smiling up at him, totally unaware his entire life had been torn apart today. That nothing would ever be the same. That he was sitting in the lap of the man who would never quite measure up to his own mother.

  Clay wrapped his arms around Stanley, ignoring the boy’s wriggling protests, and placed a kiss on the top of his head.

  Kristen watched the tiny young boy and his uncle, tears running down her cheeks, unable to care what it was doing to her makeup.

  “This is the part of my job that I appreciate,” the social worker said softly beside her. “We see so much ugliness, so much pain. And I know this moment was originally caused by tragedy. But sometimes we bring in a relative to take temporary custody and we watch them walk away knowing it will be a disaster. Here? That man will move the moon to make that boy happy. It’s clear as day. I feel positive things coming for them.”

  Kristen sniffed. “Thank you for saying that. He’s not ready to hear it yet, but I know you’re right. He’ll be amazing. We just have to get Stanley home and…” She froze for a moment. “Oh my God. Car seat. We don’t have a car seat. I’m assuming the one his mother had…”

  “Didn’t come with the child.” The older woman shook her head. “And if it was in the car during the accident, it’s unusable regardless.”

  “Of course. I…I’m going to go buy a car seat.” She walked in to lower down beside Clay on the floor. Stanley had already abandoned his uncle to crawl back over to the closest basket of toys. “Clay? I need to run out and get something, okay? I’ll be back in half an hour.”

  Clay nodded, never taking his eyes off Stanley.

  “Okay then.” With a sigh, Kristen stood and walked back to the door where the social worker stood. “Can you point me in the right direction for the nearest Target?”

  Clay stood beside Kristen’s SUV, a squirming Stanley in his arms. He had the diaper bag the social worker had given him—his nephew’s emergency stash from his day care center, the social worker had explained—and watched as Kristen installed the car seat.

  “I feel like I should be doing that,” he said, bouncing a little when Stanley protested being held. The kid wanted down to explore.

  “You could, but we’d be here for three more hours. I’ve installed countless car seats. I’m basically a professional. Just let me work my magic.” Kristen grinned out at him from her spot in the back of her SUV. She’d ditched the heels five minutes earlier, and her pencil skirt was hiked up to indecent heights. The simple, professional bun she’d worn at the office had long since fallen.

  Was it wrong that his body responded to the beauty of her in the moment? Even as he held his recently orphaned nephew and wanted to cry for missing his sister? Or was that just life? The sign, maybe, that things wouldn’t stand still, even for tragedy.

  Stanley let out a howl right next to his ear, making him wince and pull the kid away. “Stan the Man, what’s your deal?”

  Stanley’s lip wobbled a little, and he went directly to chewing on his hand before making a whimpering sound.

  “Uh, Kristen?”

  “Just…one…second,” she said, sounding breathless as she tugged and pulled on some strap, putting all her weight into it. “I think…yes! Done.” She poked her head out, a crazy grin plastered on. “Each car seat is just a tick different.” Crawling out the other side of the SUV, she opened and closed the door, then walked around to him. “Should be safe, but I won’t be offended if you want to double-check me.”

  “Why is it still facing backward? He’s a year old.”

  “It’s now recommended they rear face until age two.”

  She said it matter-of-factly, like it was just a statistic all people should know. Given she didn’t have young children currently, he wasn’t sure where that stat came from. Was that something he should have already been aware of? Was he already failing the test of being worthy to keep Stanley?

  “Clay,” she asked, cupping his face. When Stanley reached for a strand of her hair, she used her other hand to gently deflect. “Clay, do you want me to put him in the seat?”

  “I, uh…yeah. Okay. Thanks.” He handed Stanley over, who made a few plaintive sounds but settled down easily enough when Kristen whispered something to him. He fussed again as she buckled him into the seat—with Clay watching over her shoulder—but settled right down again when she handed him a soft book and tucked a blanket with a stuffed animal head sewn onto one corner next to him. Both of which had come from his day care diaper bag.

  “You’re a pro,” he said when she straightened. Her butt bumped against his hip, and he took a step back, steadying her.

  Kristen smiled over her shoulder, then blew out a breath. “He won’t last long. He’s hungry. Let’s go ahead and get him back to your place, and we can deal with the rest later.”

  The rest…sounded ominous. “What else is there to deal with?” He got in the passenger seat, waited for her to get in the driver seat and start the car before repeating the question.

  “Have you watched him before at your place?”

  “No, it was just always easier to go over to Amanda’s. She’s got all his stuff.”

  “Exactly. Stuff.” She sighed again when he blinked in confusion. “Kids are tiny, but their gear is not. He needs things. I’m assuming you don’t want to stop by your sister’s place to pick up—”

  “No,” he said harshly. Then, realizing how it came out, he cleared his throat. “Sorry. I just meant no. Not…not yet.”

  “That’s fine.” Kristen didn’t argue further, simply pulled out of the parking lot and headed them for home.

  And didn’t demand he speak at all on the ride.

  “Can kids watch TV at this age?”

  Kristen bit back a smile at the worried question when she’d turned on a show for Stanley.

  “It’s not exactly the best thing for their developing brains, but we’re talking for a few minutes. It’s not going to hurt him to just eat his cereal and watch a few moments of an animated flower that makes friends with th
e sun and the moon.” She rubbed his arms. “Go sit with him. Let the soothing sounds of kiddie TV take you away from it all.”

  He started to walk, then turned back and grabbed her in a hug so tight Kristen worried she might not be able to breathe. But she ran her palms up and down his back, trying to comfort, even as she knew there was no way to make it better.

  “Where are you going?”

  “To the store. You need some stuff.”

  “Like what?”

  She inched away and rested her forehead on his. “A crib for one thing. Clothing, diapers, some food other than the cereal he can eat, whole milk—”

  “Okay, all right.” He laughed, but it sounded a little weathered. Then he let her go to dig in his back pocket. “Take my credit card. Get whatever you think I’m going to need, at least for a while. I’ll…I don’t know. I trust you.”

  Kristen kissed his cheek and headed to her car. The moment she was on the road, she used the hands-free and dialed her son.

  “Mom, is Coach okay?”

  She’d called her son on her run to Target for the car seat, warning him she wouldn’t be home at her normal hour, if at all that day, and the reason for it.

  “Yes and no. Isaac, did you feed yourself dinner?”

  “Sure thing, Mom. But what about Coach? Is he, like, devastated?”

  Devastated was one way of putting it.

  “He’s upset. We’ll start with that. You feel like coming over here and lending a hand?”

  “Over where?”

  “I’m running a quick errand, then going back to Coach Barnes’s house to help him out. He’s… He needs some lifting up.”

  “Sure thing, Mom. Text me the address and I can get there.”

  “On second thought…come out here. I’m about to make a major shopping run for baby items. I’ll send you where I’m at. I have a feeling I’ll have more stuff than I can put in my SUV in one trip. I’ll need your car.”