by Irene Hannon
The line went dead. Mitch steeled himself and punched the button for the last message, his heart hammering painfully.
“It’s Tony. Hey, listen, forget those other messages, okay? I feel real good now.” He erupted into a peal of high-pitched laughter. “Yeah, I’m okay. Man, this stuff is cool! The guys were right. See ya later.”
The line went dead.
Mitch closed his eyes, and his fingers clenched around the receiver. If only he’d played his answering machine back earlier! He might have gotten to Tony in time to dissuade him from using whatever stuff his “friends” had given him. He replaced the phone in the holder, his chest tight with emotion. Once again he had failed to recognize when someone needed him desperately. Just as he’d failed David.
And suddenly he realized that he’d been fooling himself all along. Six years ago he’d learned a very painful lesson—that he was apt to get so caught up in his job that his personal life, and those he loved, suffered. Today the reverse had been demonstrated. He’d put his personal life first, and a boy had died. The message was obvious—he simply couldn’t manage both.
He thought of what Uncle Ray had said. That he wasn’t the same man he’d been six years ago. Maybe that was true in some ways. But one thing hadn’t changed, as he’d tragically learned tonight. He still wasn’t able to discern an urgent need for help. He’d missed it with Tony, just as he’d missed it with his own son. And how could someone so out of touch with those who needed him most possibly be a good husband or father?
The sudden ringing of the phone startled him, and he reached for it automatically. “Hello.”
“Mitch? It’s Tess. I know you said you’d call, but I’ve been so worried…did you just get in?”
He propped one shoulder against the wall and wearily wiped a hand down his face. “Yeah. A few minutes ago. I was just going to call you.”
“Was it…one of your students?”
“Yes. Tony Watson.”
Tess frowned. The name sounded familiar. “The boy who was having problems at home? From Bruce’s class?”
“That’s right.”
“Oh, Mitch! What happened?”
He couldn’t tell her about the phone calls. Not yet. The pain was too raw. “He couldn’t handle life. He thought drugs could help. The classic story.”
There was silence for a moment, and he knew that she was thinking how close Bruce had come to going down this same path. “I’m so sorry,” she finally said softly.
“Me, too.”
“You sound exhausted.”
“Yeah.”
“Do you want me to come over?”
He closed his eyes and sucked in a breath. Oh, yes! He needed Tess now, desperately. Needed to feel her arms around him, to touch her softness, to inhale her goodness. He needed to hold her until the nightmares receded and he recaptured the dream of their future together. But that could never be. It wouldn’t be fair to her. Because he would fail her. Maybe not next week. Or next year. But someday. And he couldn’t do that again to someone he loved.
“No. It’s late. We both need to get some sleep.”
There was a moment’s hesitation before she spoke. “All right. We’ll talk tomorrow.”
“Right.”
Again she hesitated. He knew she wanted him to say more. But he couldn’t.
“Good night, then.”
“Good night,” he replied.
He replaced the receiver, then reached into his jacket pocket and removed the velvet box, cradling it gently in his hand. His time with Tess had been a lovely interlude, giving him a tantalizing taste of joy. Making him believe once again in the magic of love and happily-ever-afters. In the end, though, it had been but a burst of sweetness that quickly dissolved, like cotton candy on the tongue. Though difficult at the time and made only after heartfelt prayers for guidance, his decision six years before appeared to have been the right one after all. He wasn’t husband or father material. He’d failed his first wife. He’d failed his son. And now he’d failed Tony.
As a cop, he’d dealt with evidence every day. Sometimes it was difficult to reach a conclusion. But there was no question at all in this instance.
It was an open-and-shut case.
Chapter Fourteen
“I sure don’t understand grown-ups, Uncle Ray.”
The older man studied the chessboard for a moment before replying. “Why is that?”
“They do stuff that doesn’t make sense.”
Uncle Ray picked up a knight and made his move. “Anything in particular?”
“Well, like Mr. Jackson. He quit calling Mom. I mean, he was hanging around all the time, then all of a sudden he just disappeared. Mom’s been moping around ever since, jumping every time the phone rings like she’s hoping it’s him. I told her she should call him, but she just got this real sad look and didn’t say anything.”
Uncle Ray nodded understandingly. “It’s hard to lose someone you love, Bruce.”
The teenager looked at him in surprise. “How did you know she loved him?”
Uncle Ray tilted his head and his lips turned up in a melancholy smile. “I was in love once. I recognize the signs. And I’ll tell you something else. Mitch loves her, too.”
Bruce frowned in confusion. “Then why doesn’t he call?”
The older man sighed and leaned back in his chair. “Life can be pretty complicated when you’re grown up, Bruce. People do things for lots of reasons. Some of them wrong, even when the intentions are good.”
Bruce’s frown deepened. “Mom said Mr. Jackson stopped coming around because he feels responsible for Tony’s death. But what did that have to do with us?”
Uncle Ray regarded the teenager for a moment. “Did Mitch ever tell you about his son?”
Bruce hesitated. “He told me he still misses him.”
“Did he tell you what happened to him?”
Bruce looked down and fiddled with a chess piece. “Not exactly. But I…I know.”
Now it was Uncle Ray’s turn to frown. “How?”
“When we stayed here one night, I heard a noise in the den. By the time I got there, Mom was talking to Mr. Jackson. I think he’d been having a nightmare or something, and Mom heard him, too. Anyway, he told her about his son, and the drugs, and how he…how he found him in that warehouse. I felt real bad for him.”
Uncle Ray nodded. “We all did. But no one felt worse than Mitch. He believed he’d failed his son. And the fact is, he had. But he was grieving, too, because his wife had just died. So he wasn’t entirely to blame, even though he felt he was. For a long time after that I wasn’t sure he was going to make it. But when he did, he decided to spend the rest of his life helping other kids get their act together.”
“Kids like me?”
“Yes. And like Tony. But his plans didn’t quite work out, because he met your mom and fell in love.”
“Was that bad?”
“Not at all. I personally think it was the best thing that could have happened. But I’m sure he feels that if he hadn’t been with your mom the night Tony died, if he’d picked up his messages, maybe he could have saved him.”
Bruce propped his chin in his hand, his face grave. “Man. That’s heavy.”
“Yes, it is. And Mitch might be right. But he’ll never be able to save the whole world, no matter how hard he tries. All he can do is his best. And that’s plenty good enough, if you ask me. He’s done a lot of fine work in the past six years.”
Bruce grinned. “Yeah. Look at me.”
Uncle Ray chuckled. “Good point.”
Once more Bruce’s face grew serious. “So he thinks that Mom and I would get in the way of him doing his job.”
“Partly,” Uncle Ray conceded. “But I think he’s even more afraid that his job will get in the way of him being a good husband and father. That eventually he would let you and your mom down.”
Bruce frowned. “He’d never do that. He always tries his best to do what’s right. And you can’t let someb
ody down if you’re trying your best.”
Uncle Ray leaned forward and once more examined the chessboard. “That’s true, son. Trouble is, I’m not sure how we can convince Mitch that his best would be good enough.”
“There’s someone here to see you, Mitch.”
Mitch looked at Karen distractedly, then glanced at his watch. “Why are you still here?”
“I was keeping your visitor company.”
Mitch frowned and transferred his gaze to his calendar. “I don’t have anything scheduled.”
“He doesn’t have an appointment.”
“Who is it?”
“Bruce Lockwood. He’s been waiting for three hours.”
Mitch felt his heart stop, then race on. He was on his feet instantly. “Three hours! What’s wrong?”
“Nothing that I can determine,” Karen said calmly. “Relax. He said it wasn’t an emergency. I asked that first thing. But he insisted on waiting, even though I told him you were busy all afternoon. I tried to break in and let you know he was here, but you went right from the committee meeting to three conference calls back-to-back and I couldn’t get a word in edgewise. Which is a record for me. I suggested he try another day, when you weren’t so busy, but he refused to leave.”
Mitch frowned. “Then it must be important.” He flexed the muscles in his shoulders and sighed wearily. “Send him in, okay?”
She tilted her head and regarded him disapprovingly. “I thought these long days were over. I think you’re regressing.”
Instead of responding, he nodded toward the door. “Go home, Dr. Freud. And send in Bruce.” She gave him an exasperated look and started to leave, but paused when he spoke again. “Thanks for waiting, Karen. And for caring.”
She looked back and smiled. “No problem.”
By the time Bruce entered a moment later, looking slightly ill at ease, Mitch had moved out from behind his desk. “Hello, Bruce. Come in. I’m sorry you waited so long. I had no idea you were out there.”
“It’s okay. I know you’re busy.”
“Not that busy. Sit down.” He motioned toward the chairs off to the side. “Does your mom know where you are?”
“Yeah. I said I had a meeting after school. She’s gonna pick me up when I’m finished,” the boy replied, perching tensely on the edge of a chair.
“So what can I do for you?” Mitch asked, trying hard to maintain simple professional friendliness when what he really wanted to do was put his arm around the boy’s hunched shoulders.
Bruce fidgeted and broke eye contact. “Since it’s the last week of school I guess I won’t see you for a while, so I just wanted to stop in and see…see how you were. I guess I got used to you being around the apartment, and it’s kind of weird now that it’s just Mom and me.”
Mitch’s gut clenched, and he took a deep breath. The boy hadn’t come right out and said he missed Mitch, but the implication was clear. Mitch tried to swallow past the lump that suddenly appeared in his throat. “I’m fine,” he lied, striving for a conversational tone. “How about you and your mom?”
Bruce shrugged. “We’re okay, I guess. But Mom…well…she misses you. A lot.”
The knot in Mitch’s stomach tightened, and the sudden pressure in his chest squeezed the air out of his lungs. “I miss her, too,” he said, his voice not quite steady. “And you.”
Bruce studied him, as if trying to discern his sincerity. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
There was silence for a moment before Bruce spoke again. “I’ve been thinking about Tony a lot.”
A spasm of pain tightened Mitch’s features. “I have, too.”
“He was an okay kid, you know? He just didn’t have much of a life. Things were pretty bad at home.”
“I know. He told me about some of it.”
“Yeah, he said he talked to you once in a while. He said you helped him a lot.”
Another twist of the knife. “Not enough, though.”
Bruce gazed at him steadily. “You did your best, Mr. Jackson. Tony told me that you were the only one who ever really cared about him. His own mom and dad only cared about their own stuff. She was gone all the time, and his dad always criticized him, telling him he would never amount to anything.” Bruce paused and took a deep breath, his own voice suddenly none too steady. “That’s real tough, you know? My dad was like that, too. Nothing I ever did was good enough for him. But at least I had my mom. I knew she loved me no matter what, and that made a really big difference. But Tony didn’t have that. He didn’t have anyone who cared about him, except you.”
Bruce leaned closer, his voice urgent—and earnest. “He told me once that he wished he’d had a dad like you. That maybe things would have been different. But see, you weren’t his dad, Mr. Jackson. You couldn’t do all the things a dad is supposed to do. Tony needed a real, full-time dad. And a mom. They were the ones who let him down, not you.”
Bruce stood then, and a flush slowly crept up his neck. “I gotta get home, but…but there’s something else I wanted to say.” He hesitated, and the flush moved to his face. “I just wanted you to know that I think Tony was right about one thing. You really would make a great dad.”
Mitch felt the sudden sting of tears behind his eyes, and his throat constricted with emotion. For months the boy had considered him an enemy. But somewhere along the way he’d earned Bruce’s respect and affection—to the point that the boy would welcome him as a father. It was the most flattering, most moving thing anyone had ever said to him.
Except, that is, when Tess had said, “I love you.” Even after he’d revealed his greatest flaws, when he’d told her about his failures as a husband and father, she had still found it in her heart to love him. Surely there could be no greater compliment—or miracle—than that. She believed that his past failures, rather than diminishing him, had forged his character. Like Uncle Ray, she believed that he had changed over the past six years. And as Bruce had pointed out, with insight beyond his years, Mitch had done his best with Tony. It was just that he simply couldn’t be the father Tony—and so many other boys—desperately needed. There just wasn’t enough of him to go around. And that would be true whether he had his own family or remained single, he realized.
Suddenly he recalled Uncle Ray’s words when the older man had talked about selling the farm. Time brings changes, he’d said. People change. Circumstances change. And sometimes you just have to realize that it’s time to move on.
Bruce shifted uncomfortably and jammed his hands into his pockets as the silence lengthened. “Anyway, that’s what I wanted to tell you,” he said self-consciously, transferring his gaze to the toe of his shoe.
Slowly Mitch rose and reached over to put his arm around the boy’s tense shoulders. “Thank you, Bruce,” he said huskily. “I wasn’t the best father before, so it’s nice to know someone thinks I’m up to the job now.” He drew a deep breath, and in that moment made a decision that he knew would affect the rest of his life. “How about I give you a ride home?”
Bruce stared at him, his face guarded but hopeful. “You don’t have to do that.”
“I want to,” he said gently. “You and I have done a lot of fence-mending with Uncle Ray lately. Maybe it’s time for me to mend another kind of fence with your mom. What do you think?”
The caution in Bruce’s eyes gave way to joy, and he grinned broadly at Mitch. “Awesome!”
Tess heard the front door open, and with a frown she tossed the dish towel on the counter and headed for the living room. “Bruce, is that you? I thought you were going to…” Her voice died as she stepped across the threshold.
“Hi, Mom. Mr. Jackson gave me a ride home.”
With an effort, Tess transferred her gaze from Mitch’s intense eyes to her son. She drew a deep breath, struggling to cope with this unexpected turn of events. “Y-your dinner’s in the oven,” she said distractedly.
“Cool. See you guys later.”
With that he breezed by, pausing only to
bestow a quick kiss on Tess’s forehead. She stared after him, thrown off balance by his uncharacteristically affectionate behavior, which had largely disappeared with the onset of adolescence.
“Can I interest you in a cup of coffee?”
Tess’s gaze swiveled back to Mitch. He looked as if he’d been through hell in the two weeks since she’d seen him. His face was haggard, and there were dark circles under his eyes, as if he hadn’t slept in days. Her heart overflowed with love for this extraordinary man, who cared so deeply about others that he took on their burdens as if they were his own. She wanted to go to him, pull him close and hold him fiercely to her heart until he understood that their love wasn’t a liability to his work, but an asset. Just as his work was an asset to their love, for it was what had made him the man he was today—compassionate, caring, committed. She wanted to hold him until he believed what Uncle Ray had said, that he was a different man from the one who’d lost his son six years before. That the incident with Tony, while tragic, didn’t mean he had failed. It just meant he was human. That he could have missed Tony’s call for any number of reasons, not necessarily personal ones. That he was the man who had earned her eternal gratitude for saving her son. That he was the man she loved with all her heart and wanted to spend the rest of her life with.
Tess wanted to say all those things. But her voice had deserted her. All she could do was stare at Mitch, as if trying to reassure herself that he wasn’t a mirage.
Meanwhile, Mitch took his own inventory. The fine lines at the corners of Tess’s eyes were new, and her face seemed taut and strained. Clearly, his unexpected arrival had only added to her distress. Her shallow breathing was reflected in the rapid rise and fall of her chest, and her hand was white-knuckled on the door frame. Above the V of her soft sweater he could see the wild beating of her pulse, and her hand was trembling when she raised it to her throat.
A surge of remorse swept over Mitch, leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. Tess had offered him her love, and he’d pulled back for reasons he’d felt at the time were noble and selfless, putting her through hell in the process. But he’d been wrong, and he intended to do everything in his power to make amends.