by Karen Cimms
Another yawn.
“So, what did you think?”
“It would be better if you added a dinosaur or a dragon.”
The chair dragged back across the room, and the lamp snapped off.
“Good idea. I’ll think about that for the rewrite.”
“G’night, Iz.”
“G’night, Zac.”
I slipped down the hallway and into the kitchen. Even if not one drop of my blood passed through their veins, I had been blessed with two amazing children.
Chapter Sixty-Nine
January
I pulled into the Sunoco, parking my truck around back like always, and sat for a while, listening to Mike McCready’s lead break on “Immortality.” My guitar wasn’t worth much, or I’d consider selling that too. It would be foolish to sell the truck, which had decreased in value several thousand dollars the minute I’d driven it off the lot. If I hadn’t had that damn accident, I wouldn’t be saddled with a truck payment right now, which was seriously dipping into my income—something we couldn’t afford, especially with legal fees hanging over our heads.
And I’d heard from Callie again. This time by certified letter. I’d found the notice in with my mail when I’d stopped by my apartment to finish boxing up my things to move back home.
She wanted me to know she was suing me—or at least her father was—for all the deposits he’d put out for the wedding that couldn’t be refunded, the cost of the reception food that had been prepared before I called it off, and the wedding cake. I dreaded telling Rain. She was hanging on by a thread as it was.
When the song ended, I turned off the engine and pulled the key from the ignition. I ran my hand over the wrinkly, pale skin on my wrist, which looked a lot smaller than its counterpart. It had been such a relief when the doctor cut the cast off this morning. I grabbed my lunch bucket and travel mug from the passenger seat. No more Starbucks for me. Rain had packed me leftover chicken from last night. I figured out that if I brought my lunch every day and gave up my morning coffee and just drank the swill Dylan made in the office, I’d save about a hundred and seventy-five dollars a month. That would pay for about an hour of legal services from the attorney we’d hired to represent us.
After pulling off my jacket and stashing my lunch in the breakroom, I stood outside Dylan’s office. We didn’t open for another twenty minutes, which gave me plenty of time to grovel. I rapped on the door frame. Dylan looked up from the latest issue of Car and Driver and waved me in.
“How’s the arm?” he asked, leaning back and lifting his feet onto the desk.
“Stiff and scrawny.” He grimaced as I held it up for his inspection. “I’ll get there. At least I’ll be able to get back to work. I’ve got to watch the lifting for a while, but I can operate a wrench and an air gun now.”
“How’s Rain?”
I searched his eyes to see if he was being sincere. When it seemed that he was, I answered honestly.
“She’s okay. Could be better.”
His eyebrows inched upward.
“Look, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”
His expression clouded. “Jeez, Chase, don’t tell me you made a mistake.”
And just like that, I wanted to knock him right out of that chair. “I didn’t make a mistake, not this time. That wasn’t what I meant. We—I’ve got myself into some financial difficulty. On top of that—and Rain doesn’t know this, and I don’t want her to know it either, at least not right now—Callie’s father is suing me for eight grand for money he couldn’t get back because we canceled the wedding at the last minute.”
“‘We’?”
“Look, Dylan, this isn’t easy for me to come to you, but I don’t really have a choice. You want me to grovel, I’m groveling. I’m asking if you want to buy my bike.”
The stained and chipped mug he’d been lifting to his lips froze in midair.
“Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
He let out a long, low whistle. “What the hell kind of trouble are you in?”
“It’s personal, Dylan, and given the state of our relationship over the past few years, I’m really not comfortable sharing that with you. Sorry. I’m just coming to you because I know you’ve always liked that bike, and I’m desperate.”
“You must be, man, if you’re willing to sell your Harley.”
He had no idea.
“How much?”
“Eight. It’s worth at least ten, probably more.”
“I’m tempted.” He ran his hand over his face, and I knew he was wondering how he was going to sell this to Lorraine, who would probably have a cow. “When do you need to know?”
“Today.” I stood. “If it’s a no, then I’m putting it on Craigslist.”
“You sure you don’t want to tell me why you’re so desperate to sell?”
I rubbed at the knot lodged at the base of my skull, hoping that it wouldn’t turn into another full-blown headache. “You know, it would be great to have someone to confide in, especially at a time like this, but you’ve proven on more than one occasion over the past few years that you’re not that person. It’s unfortunate, at least for me, but that’s the way it is. Just trust me when I say I need the money.”
I was halfway down the hall when he called my name from the doorway.
“C’mere. Please?” He lifted his hands in supplication. “Just come here for a minute.”
I turned back reluctantly. I should’ve known better than to ask him for help.
“Close the door,” he instructed. Once I had and had dropped onto the ratty sofa, he continued. “Look, man, if you don’t want to tell me what’s going on, don’t. But if you do, if you need a friend—or a brother—I’m here for you. I’m sorry. The last few years, yeah, I’ve been a jerk. I love my wife, I do, but she can be a spiteful little bitch. I’ve seen it too, and not just with Rain. I’m not proud of that side of her, and I’m not proud that I let her cause these problems between you and me. So if you want to talk to me, then talk. If you don’t, you can still let me help you.” He lifted his eyebrows, waiting for me to say something. When I didn’t, he shrugged. “I’ll buy the bike, but only on two conditions.”
I bowed my head in defeat. “I can’t, Dylan. I need at least eight, or I’m going to have to sell it to someone else.”
He raised his hand. “Hear me out, will you?”
I sat back.
“That bike is worth at least twelve, probably fourteen if you take in the way it’s been babied and maintained over the years. I’ll give you twelve. That’s my first condition.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. That made no sense. “And your second?”
“My second condition is that the bike is collateral. It stays here in the shop until you can pay me back. If you can’t start paying me back within the next twelve months, maybe I’ll keep it. But until then, it’s yours. I know you won’t agree unless I actually take ownership, so if that’s how it has to be, it can just sit here in the back bay.” He opened the drawer and pulled out his checkbook. “Consider this a loan.”
Dylan’s response was so unexpected, I wasn’t sure what to say. “That’s asking an awful lot.”
He gave me a tentative, lopsided grin. “Not really. I’m just helping out my little brother, who I hope someday will agree to be my friend again.”
The knot at the base of my skull seemed to have somehow made its way into my throat. Still, with our history the past few years, I couldn’t help feeling cautious. “I appreciate it. And not to sound ungrateful—because I am, grateful, truly—but let’s just see how it goes, okay? You and your wife, especially your wife, have caused a lot of heartache for me and for Rain, and by extension for Callie as well. You’re going to have to give me some time.”
“I understand.” He scribbled out the check, tore it out of his checkbook, and handed it to me. “I don’t suppose I have to remind you that this is between us, at least until I can find a way to explain it to Lorraine.”
<
br /> “No problem.”
We shook hands like it was a business deal. And it was. But it was also a huge step forward.
Chapter Seventy
March
It was like coming home to an empty house after a funeral. We moved like zombies, speaking in hushed tones. Rain removed her shoes, but she didn’t changed out of her court clothes. She put the water on to boil for tea, padding around the kitchen and noiselessly emptying the dishwasher while I sat listlessly at the table. Before the kettle could whistle, she snatched it from the stove and filled the two cups waiting on the counter.
We’d hardly spoken a word since the judge issued his decision.
“Do you want to talk about it?” I asked finally.
She shook her head once and rose to her toes, trying to put a glass on the top shelf.
“I’ll get that.” I came up behind her and reached for the glass just as she let go. It crashed to the counter, then onto the floor, sending shards of glass in every direction—and Rain over the edge. Her small hands clenched into fists.
“God damn it!” She burst into tears.
I wrapped my arms around her. “It’s okay, it’s okay.”
Thor came charging in to investigate.
“Get him before he gets cut,” Rain cried between sobs.
I darted toward the dog, who thought my spread-armed stance was some fun new game. When I finally caught him, I carried him across the kitchen and deposited him into the yard.
Then I went back for Rain and scooped her up.
“Should I put you out in the yard as well?”
She gave a small snort and an even smaller smile, but it was something.
“How about just putting me down in the living room so I can go put on some shoes and clean this up?”
“I’ll get it. You need to just take it easy for a bit.”
“What good will that do? We have to figure out how we’re going to explain this to Zac and Izzy.”
“Izzy knows.”
She twisted in my arms, and I nearly dropped her. “How?”
“She figured it out right around the time I did the paternity test. She’s a smart kid, and you did a hell of a job raising her. She was actually trying to make me feel better.”
“We raised her right. And why didn’t you tell me she knew?”
“She wouldn’t let me. She didn’t want you to know. But in the meantime, she tried to convince me that Preston wasn’t a horrible person, and she thought he might make a decent father. She didn’t want me to worry.”
Rain’s response was so visceral, I almost dropped her again. “He’s a lousy, dirty rotten low-down snake.”
“Yeah, well, that lousy, dirty rotten low-down snake is slithering up the sidewalk.” I set her down in the living room.
“What?” She ran to the window and pulled the curtain aside.
“Let me handle this.” I moved across the living room just as Preston and his attorney appeared at the front door.
“I’m sure you didn’t expect to see me so soon,” Preston said through the screen, “but there’s something we need to discuss. I’m sure you remember my attorney, Alistair Barclay.”
“We have one month to prepare Zac,” I reminded him. “You have no right to be here now.” I couldn’t bash his head in inside a courtroom, but this was my house. The only thing that was stopping me was the presence of witnesses, namely his lawyer.
“I think you’ll want to hear what Mr. Jamison has to say,” Barclay said in the same arrogant tone he’d used in court hours earlier.
Rain surprised me when she signaled to let them in. Maybe like me, she wanted a clearer shot at him. I opened the door.
Preston strode in, followed by his attorney.
“I still can’t get over how small this room is,” he said, looking around, making it clear he’d been here before. I knew it, but it didn’t make it any easier to hear him remind me.
Rain was gripping the sleeve of my shirt tightly. I didn’t know if she was looking for support or if it was a poor attempt to keep me from decking him. I knew he was trying to rattle me, but I was going to do my best to disappoint him.
With his hands clasped casually behind him, Preston turned his back on us and wandered toward the wall of pictures. His attorney remained planted, looking nervous.
“Cute kid,” Preston said, pointing to a picture of Zac on the beach in Cape May. He smiled at Rain. “We make some good-looking kids. Too bad there’s just the one.” Rain twisted the cuff of my shirt so tightly it almost cut off my circulation. “I’m surprised you don’t have any of your own, Chase. Can’t believe you’re not hitting that regularly.” He angled his head condescendingly toward Rain as he continued looking over the pictures. “I know I would. Guess you must be shooting blanks.”
“Mr. Jamison,” his attorney warned.
“Just ignore him,” Rain whispered. “He’s deliberately trying to rile you up. Although I have no idea why.”
“Yeah, calm down, Chase.” Preston flashed me a huge grin.
I turned to his attorney.
“Is there some official reason he’s here? Because if not, I’m going to have our attorney file an ethics charge against you first thing in the morning.”
“Mr. Jamison, please,” Barclay implored him.
“You have thirty seconds to make your point and get out,” I said.
“I’m getting there. Just chill. As I said, I owe you an apology, Rain.” For the first time since he’d walked in, he wasn’t smirking. “I mean it. I know I hurt you, and for that, I’m sorry. I was wrong to have waited so long to tell you I believed Zac was my son. Then when you got married, I tried to forget about it. I figured he’d have a mother who loved him and a somewhat stable home, even if he didn’t have the benefit of everything I could give him. But I’ve kept my eye on all of you over the past few years. Call it morbid curiosity. When I found out the two of you were divorced, I debated coming forward. With Chase out of the picture, I hoped that by rekindling things with you, I’d get to see Zac. Suzanne would never have had to know. It would’ve been like old times.”
I dived for him. Barclay, who was surprisingly strong and agile, grabbed me before I could get close.
“Thanks, Barclay,” Preston said with a wink. “Golden Globe champ and a body builder. You can’t tell what’s under that off-the-rack Hugo Boss suit, can you? Right, Barclay?”
He smiled as if he thought he was quite amusing.
“When Rain made that pathetic post on Facebook about how sad and lonely she was, it was just too perfect. Why wouldn’t I jump on that?” He made a big show of putting on a fake frown. “To be honest, I really thought you’d take me up on my offer to swoop in and take care of you. You surprised me, Rain. You got all conscientious and respectable, and you left me no choice but to legally seek a relationship with my son.”
For the first time, he looked completely serious.
“Once I started down this path, I didn’t think of anyone but myself. I’ve always wanted children, and aside from the opinion the two of you have of me, I think I’d make a damn good father. I figured you knew that my being Zac’s father was a strong possibility, and I didn’t think it would come as that much of a shock to anyone except perhaps Suzanne. Turns out she took it well; nothing a trip to Paris during Fashion Week couldn’t solve. I guess I really didn’t expect you both to take it so hard.” His voice dropped. “Maybe I wouldn’t have been such a great father after all, if I could rip apart my child’s world for my own selfish needs.”
He extended an open hand to his lawyer. “Barclay.”
Barclay slipped a large manila envelope out of his leather binder and offered it to Rain. She raised her hand slowly, afraid to take it.
“Open it,” Preston insisted.
I watched over her shoulder as she pulled out the contents. There were dozens of pictures. Some were of Rain with Zac, or Zac and Izzy, or all of us together, but most were of me and Zac. We were fishing along the North Branch, and
I was trying to show him how to cast his line. We were sitting on the dock near Round Lake. We were walking on the beach, Zac sitting on my shoulders. We were shopping for a gift for Rain or working in the yard.
Zac, my ever-present shadow.
“The thing of it is,” Preston said, “Zac already has a great dad. He doesn’t need a second one. So I guess I need to apologize to you too, Chase. I’m sorry.”
Rain stood as if she were made of marble, one hand clamped over her mouth. “What does this mean?” she asked between her fingers.
Preston turned his back to us, but his lawyer stepped up.
“Mr. Jamison has advised Judge Ludlow that he will be submitting the necessary paperwork for an identified surrender of parental rights. He will be naming Mr. Holgate as the person who will be adopting Zac. There are a few formalities he will need to follow, but given the unusual nature of the case and the fact that the judge has already been advised of Mr. Jamison’s reasoning, it should be relatively cut and dry. Once the judge agrees to the termination of parental rights, Mr. Holgate must adopt the minor child.”
I tried to say that I would, but my throat had gone dry.
“I don’t understand,” Rain stammered.
Preston’s shoulders twitched, but he didn’t turn around.
“Mr. Jamison is giving you and your husband sole custody of your son,” Barclay said. “He is giving up any and all rights to the boy.”
Preston cleared his throat loudly.
“Mr. Jamison would, however, like to make provision for Zac’s college education, as well as Isolde’s.”
Rain looked up at me, her eyes wide. I shook my head at her.
“No, thank you, Preston,” she said. “That won’t be necessary. Chase has been saving for both children since before we were married.”
Preston turned slightly to Barclay. “Told you he wouldn’t go for it.”
“That is understandable, Mr. and Mrs. Holgate,” Barclay said. “However, be advised that Mr. Jamison will be creating trusts for both children. Should the need arise in the future, you will just need to contact my office. If they don’t need it for schooling, then perhaps a wedding or the purchase of a home when they’re older. Mr. Jamison also would like you to know in the unfortunate event that either child is ill and needs anything beyond what is covered by your medical insurance, he would want to contribute, no questions asked and no strings attached.”