Alex struggled to find her inner balance. She’d never be able to let Braden stay if she acted like a teenage girl in love every time his father showed up. “No problem. I just don’t want you to think our security is lax. Strangers can’t just waltz in here and take a child.”
He nodded. “I’m sure it’s very safe. But if you ever want me to double-check, just ask. In fact, I read in your handbook that you give a discount to parents who volunteer, and I’m all for saving money. If there’s anything I can do after hours, let me know.”
After hours. The offer was tempting. Last night, she’d spent three hours studying potential sperm donors and none seemed as qualified as Mark. Of course, that wasn’t what he had in mind.
“Um, thanks. I’ll think about it.” To Braden, she said, “Would you like me to help you get your coat and backpack?”
“I’ll help him,” Maya said. “Come on, Braden.”
The little boy stood up and followed her toward the cloakroom without hesitation.
“Wow,” Mark said softly. “I’ve never seen him actually interact with another kid before. That’s great, Alex. How’d he do with his flash cards?”
She’d already picked them up and put them in the box they’d come in. “Not so good. He wasn’t interested, and I didn’t want to push him. Not on his first day in a new place. But we’ll work out a routine soon enough. How was your day?”
His handsome face changed. Still handsome, but not as friendly and open. “Something’s come up at work. Not good. I’ll keep you posted as it unfolds. I might actually need…well, I’ll talk to you more when I know something.”
She wondered if he was being given a different shift and might need her to watch Braden on weekends. On rare occasions she babysat Gregor’s kids. And Maya was always welcome to stay. But Alex had a rule about not watching her students outside of regular business hours.
Braden and Maya returned a moment later, and Alex introduced Mark to the children. “Gemilla, Maya, Luca, this is Mr. Gaylord. He’s an investigator with the fire department. He finds people who set fires on purpose.”
She made sure Luca shook hands with Mark.
To Mark, she said, “Sometimes, parents come in and talk to the children about their jobs. Would you be interested?”
“Maybe,” he said. “We’ll see.”
Alex was a little surprised by his vacillation. Mark had always been enthusiastic about his work, but she let the matter go as he helped his son into his coat.
Maya took Alex’s hand as they followed father and son to the door. “Night, Braden. See you tomorrow.”
“Bye, Braden. Sweet dreams.” Maya waved her free hand.
Both Gaylords seemed anxious to leave, so Alex closed the door behind them and looked at her niece. “Why did you wish him sweet dreams? He won’t be going to bed for hours yet.”
“Because he’s sad, and sometimes bad things happen in his dreams.”
“Did he tell you that?”
Maya shook her head. “Auntie, he doesn’t talk.”
The simple truth made Alex blush. “I know. Then how…?” She didn’t finish the question. The family generally accepted the fact that Maya knew things. She was bright and intuitive and seemed to read people the way the average person read a newspaper. But still…“He has bad dreams?”
Maya nodded.
“Does his dad know?”
The little girl shrugged. “You could ask him. He can talk.”
Another simple truth. And Alex would. Tomorrow.
MARK DROVE STRAIGHT from Alex’s to Zeke’s. The man’s older three-bedroom home was only a few miles from the Radonovic compound. Handy for a man who was doing his best to date the matriarch of the clan, Mark noted.
He tapped his horn as he pulled into the driveway. Turning to look at Braden in the backseat, Mark said, “There’s a Happy Meal in the bag on the floor. You can dig in while Zeke and I talk. We’re going to be right outside the car, okay?”
To his surprise, Braden acknowledged his father’s question with a nod before leaning down to pick up the paper bag adorned with golden arches. Mark felt guilty about how often he fed his son fast food. He wasn’t a great cook, but he could do better than this—if today hadn’t been a slide into hell.
A flash of movement alerted him to Zeke’s presence and he got out of the car. The wind was cold. He wished he had the wool scarf Alex had given him their first Christmas together. Too bad his jealous ex-wife had burned it in the fireplace of the apartment they’d moved into after their quickie wedding.
“Thanks for meeting me,” he said, shaking Zeke’s hand.
Zeke hadn’t changed in all the years Mark had known him. A little more gray, of course, but still as lean and unflappable as ever. “No problem. I’m headed back the way you just came as soon as we’re done here. So, what’s going on?”
Mark groaned. “Hell, I thought you could tell me. All I’m getting from Rubio is that I’m a person of interest.” Reuben Rubio was the head of Mark’s department. “And that Internal Affairs is looking into the case.”
“I have a buddy in I.A. I’ll give him a call. You don’t know anything about this supposed bomb?”
Mark shook his head. “First I heard about the fire was when Tracey’s neighbor called and said Tracey’s mom was there and she planned to take Braden.” Mark had rushed over and had arrived before Braden’s grandmother was done looting Tracey’s apartment, but the argument that had ensued had left Braden terrified and borderline hysterical. Apparently, someone had told the little boy his mother was never coming back for him.
“Tracey’s mother pretty well cleaned out the place before I even realized she had a key. Was Tracey using? I don’t know. She never sounded like it when we talked on the phone, but you know how good she was about covering up.”
“Did you ask the mother?”
Mark laughed, his tone bitter. “Odessa would never say anything that might help clear me. She probably thinks if I take the fall for Tracey’s death, she’ll get custody of Braden.” Over my dead body, he silently added.
Mark blamed Tracey’s mother for the majority of her daughter’s problems. A selfish, scheming, manipulative scam artist, Odessa Mapes had used Tracey any way that benefited Odessa—right down to letting a “professional” photographer shoot pictures of the little girl nude. “It’s not like I let a bunch of perverts touch her,” Odessa had once said, defending her actions.
Zeke pulled a small notebook from the vest pocket of his jacket and scribbled something. “You probably could have looked at the file before this accusation. Now, you’re persona non grata where anything about your wife is concerned, so my advice is do your job and let the investigators do theirs.”
Mark nodded. He believed in justice, but he also knew that valuable clues could be lost over months. This case hadn’t initially been investigated as a homicide. If they reopened it now, the opportunity to prove his innocence might be harder to come by.
ALEX WASN’T IN THE MOOD for a family dinner, but getting out of her mother’s kitchen was never easy. Roms liked to eat. And Yetta, like most Romani mothers, loved to feed people.
“It’s a new recipe. Jo gave it to me. You have to try a bowl,” Yetta said as she helped Maya and Gemilla hang up their jackets. Luca had already disappeared into the living room. Alex could hear the sound of the television come on.
“Zeke’s joining us,” her mother added.
Zeke. Her mother’s undeclared beau. Also the man who probably knew Mark best. Alex had heard about Zeke Martini long before she’d ever met him. Mark had called him his mentor. She couldn’t believe she’d blanked out the connection between Zeke and Mark for so long. In the months that Zeke had been involved in her family’s affairs, he and Alex had never once spoken of Mark. Proof, she’d hoped, that she’d moved on where Mark was concerned.
“Okay. One bowl of soup. It’ll save messing up my kitchen.” Which was a lie, of course. Although she had every intention of eating healthy balanced meals
to help prepare her body for pregnancy, the truth was by the end of the day she didn’t care whether she ate or not. Which was another reason she no longer resembled her namesake, the hippo.
Zeke showed up fifteen minutes later. Alex watched the silver-haired cop enter the room after a light knock. Her mother’s face lit up when she saw him, and she even gave a girlish giggle to his peck on her cheek.
Alex was glad to see her mother reengaged in life. She would always miss her father, but life was moving along. Her mother had a right to be happy, to feel loved and desired. So did Alex, although she’d pretty much given up on the desire part. But love…yes, a baby to love. That was a good thing.
“How’s Mark’s little boy doing, Alex?” Zeke asked after everyone was settled around the table.
The question surprised her. Zeke usually watched and observed, but he rarely asked direct questions of her or her sisters. “Hard to say. Today was his first day. But he seemed pretty comfortable. Didn’t you think so, Luca?”
The boy shrugged. “He doesn’t talk. So who knows?”
Knowing Luca’s antipathy for law enforcement, Alex had been worried about how he’d do at the same table as Zeke. So far, so good, she thought, taking a spoonful of soup. A mélange of flavors that included jalapeño exploded in her mouth.
“Wow, this is great, Mom.”
“Sweet-potato bisque with Portuguese sausage and peppers,” Yetta said. “I made the children’s portion without the hot peppers.”
Everyone ate in a companionable silence until Maya said, “Braden’s daddy likes you, Aunt Alex.”
Alex’s spoon froze partway to her lips. She glanced around, hoping no one else had heard Maya’s declaration.
No such luck, she decided seeing her mother and Zeke exchange a look.
She finished her spoonful then said, “Braden’s father and I used to be good friends. But then he married Braden’s mommy, and we didn’t see each other for a long time. Now Mr. Gaylord is my client. Do you know that word?”
Maya nodded. “It means boyfriend.”
Alex’s jaw dropped. “No, it doesn’t. A client is a person who does business with you.”
“Mommy was Daddy Rob’s client, and now they’re married.”
Well, that was true. At one time, Kate had retained Rob to handle her opposition to her ex-husband’s custody claim.
Alex heard a snicker. From her mother. She gave Yetta a stern look then told Maya, “That was different. Mark…Mr. Gaylord…and I aren’t getting married.”
Maya cocked her head and smiled in a way that made Alex’s heart lift and fall peculiarly. “Okay, Aunt Alex, if you say so, but he does like you. So does Braden.”
“Honey, I know you’re very good at guessing what people are thinking, but since Braden doesn’t speak, you can’t say for sure what he feels.” And we aren’t even going to get into what Mark thinks or feels.
Maya heaved a sigh. “When we were in Cubbyland, we talked with our eyes. He says you’re sad. I told him he was silly. You laugh and sing all the time. He said it’s okay. He likes sad people because he’s sad, too.”
“Why is he sad?” Yetta asked.
Maya shrugged. “Not sure. I’m done. Can I have a cookie now, Grandma?”
Alex looked at her mother. She didn’t like the concern she read in Yetta’s eyes. Oh, great, she thought, just what I need—my family thinking I’m on the verge of depression.
“I wanna cookie, too,” Gemilla said. “I don’t like soup. Where’s my daddy?”
Fortunately, the children’s needs took precedence over the perceived ennui of an aunt, but Alex knew she’d hear about this later. Hopefully, much later.
Chapter Five
Alex couldn’t believe how fast the week had flown by. She’d lived through four afternoons with Braden and five meetings with Braden’s father. She deserved a drink. Too bad she was abstaining from alcohol. And caffeine.
She’d finally broken down and asked Liz if there was any kind of herbal teas or supplements that were recommended for a woman who was planning on getting pregnant after several years of taking birth-control pills.
Of course, Alex had made it clear that the inquiry was on behalf of one of the Dancing Hippo mothers who desperately wanted a second child. In the past, Liz might have questioned Alex a bit more intently and discovered the truth behind the request, but these days Liz was too preoccupied to look deeper.
In fact, all three of her sisters were pretty wrapped up in their own lives. For the first time in…maybe forever, Alex felt freed from her family’s intense, albeit loving, scrutiny. The independence was both exhilarating and daunting.
Did she really dare go through with such a huge, life-altering decision without talking to her sisters first? Now would be the perfect time to bring up the subject, she thought, as she watched Liz loop a strand of mini lights around the corner post of the fence.
Today was Saturday. Grace had arrived on a red-eye flight from Detroit Thursday night. She’d attended some sort of legal hearing yesterday and, now, she and Liz were helping Alex put up outside decorations around the Hippo while waiting for Paul to return with Lydia and Reezira.
Alex couldn’t decide who was more excited about the move—Liz and her hubby-to-be or their two Romanian boarders.
“Not those, Grace,” Alex said, pointing to the strand of old-fashioned lights her sister was holding. “I’m giving Mom all the red ones.”
“Red? Seriously?” Grace appeared shocked.
“I know. She’s used blue and white for as long as I can remember, but she told me yesterday she was ready for a change.”
“Uh-oh,” Grace said. “I wonder what that means. Do you suppose it’s Mom’s subtle way of telling us she’s serious about Zeke?”
Alex had known that was coming. “I raised that question, and she said—and I quote, ‘Tell Grace that red lights mean I want red lights. Period.’”
“She didn’t say that.”
“Absolute truth.”
Grace tossed her head in a Grace fashion and crossed her arms. “Fine. If you say so, but something fishy is going on around here. I can sense it. Someone has a secret.”
Alex turned back to the holly bush she was draping with lights. Alex had learned never to underestimate her youngest sister’s clairvoyant abilities. All four Radonovic sisters had certain sensibilities, but Grace was by far the most open about hers.
Liz let out a low groan. “Okay, I give. It’s me.”
Alex looked over her shoulder. Liz had taken off her gardening gloves and was resting her butt against the Dancing Hippo sign, which Alex had decorated the week before. “It is?”
“Uh-huh. I…I’m going to be a mother.”
Alex nearly fell off the child-size step she was balancing on. “What? When? You aren’t even married yet.” Which she realized was a ridiculously hypocritical thing to say when she was secretly planning on conceiving without a husband anywhere in sight.
“We will be by the time the baby comes. This process could take a year or more.”
“Huh?”
“Paul and I are going to adopt a child from India.” She held up a hand before either of her sisters could say anything. “No. Not Prisha,” she quickly added. Prisha was the handicapped little girl Liz had met in her travels to an Indian ashram. That adoption had fallen through when Prisha’s birth mother had returned for her daughter. “She’s doing very well with her mother, and I couldn’t be happier for them both. But Paul knew how much Prisha meant to me, and he was determined to help me find another child.”
Alex looked at Grace, who was smiling. “You’ve found one, haven’t you?” she asked.
“We think so,” Liz said, stressing the word think. “Paul has a friend in the State Department who is helping to expedite the paperwork, but anything could happen so we’re not getting our hopes up too high.”
“What if you have a child of your own before then?”
Liz shrugged. “Mom had two kids fifteen months apart. Ne
ither Alex nor I turned out too neurotic. Wait. I take that back. The jury’s still out on Alex. Did Mom tell you what she did?”
Grace walked to where Liz was standing. “No. What?”
“She accepted Mark Gaylord’s son into her after-school program.”
“No way.”
They both looked at her, and Alex felt an uncharacteristic desire to run and hide. “He’s a sad little boy with a speech impediment. Stop reading more into this than there is. I provide a service that Mark desperately needs.”
“He must have been desperate to come to you,” Grace said.
“Thanks a lot.”
She waved her hand. “Oh, pooh, you know what I meant. Everyone knows you’re a fabulous teacher. I’m surprised he didn’t bring his kid here years ago. What does his wife say about this?”
Alex picked up the loose end of her light cord and plugged it into the extension cord she’d bought at Lowe’s. Since it was only noon, the little lights barely glowed, but she was satisfied the strand worked.
Turning around to face Grace, she said, “Tracey died last March. Some sort of accident. I meant to search online for it, but I’ve been a little shorthanded…as Liz knows.”
Liz nodded. “I don’t mind helping out, Alex. Working with the kids gives me a chance to see what it’s going to be like after I have my own. You can call me anytime.”
Alex appreciated the offer, even though she still hadn’t quite decided how she felt about Liz’s declaration that she was going to be a mother. She could certainly empathize with Liz’s desire to have a child but wasn’t clear on why Liz was so intent on adopting.
Suddenly a thought struck her. “Oh, no, Liz,” she said reaching out. “This isn’t a result of what happened to you in Bosnia, is it? The rape?”
Liz made a face. “No. As far as I know I can have children, and like I said, Paul and I hope to someday. But this is something I want to do.”
Alex understood. Some dreams were impossible to give up entirely.
Grace hugged Liz and motioned Alex to join in. “Come on, Alex. Group hugs are something I don’t get living in Detroit. I know Nikolai and I are meant for each other, and I’ve never been happier, but, darn, I miss you guys.”
The Quiet Child Page 5