by Radclyffe
“So how about now.”
Jordan couldn’t keep pretending Kip was an ordinary volunteer, just because she liked her. Just because they’d connected so easily. Nothing about Kip showing up was ordinary, and, okay, maybe her judgment was a tad swayed by how much she was drawn to her. She owed it to Ty at the very least to find out the truth.
“All right, I’ll make the call.”
Chapter Eleven
Jordan retrieved the folded piece of paper she’d slipped into the back pocket of her khakis that morning and smoothed it out on the makeshift desk in the trailer. She read it again. It didn’t say anything it hadn’t said before and still didn’t tell her much. Catherine Kensington was remanded to four hundred hours of community service to be fulfilled at the Ninth Avenue Community Garden project. A form signature at the bottom, illegible of course. Fortunately, a printed name appeared under that. Jorge Garcia, clerk.
Jorge was probably someone at the courthouse or the justice center or wherever these things were generated. She really didn’t know. The one and only time she’d been in court was to protest a traffic ticket, and that was at least fifteen years ago. Now she just paid them. Time was more important than money, especially the way things were going now.
And she was procrastinating. Letting her mind wander and skip like the stones she’d tossed into the pond as a kid, challenging her friends to see who could skip them the most times. But she wasn’t a kid and it wasn’t endless summer and her days didn’t stretch forever, filled with hope and promise. Tya was right. She needed at least some information about the person who was going to be working with them and exactly what her responsibilities might be. Hopefully, she wasn’t going to be forced into a position of making Kip accountable to her. She didn’t even especially like the idea of being her boss, let alone her de facto warden. She wasn’t twitchy about workplace romances, not when they were between adults and no one was abusing power. It was simplistic to assume everyone in a position of power actually abused it or that those who weren’t would silently submit. But Kip’s situation blurred the boundaries even more than usual for workplace relationships. The secrets surrounding her would have been intriguing under other circumstances. Still were, if she was honest about it. But they were barriers too, making any kind of personal association difficult to navigate. And why was she thinking about that. This wasn’t about romance. Discovering why Kip was here was just about common sense and safety. Simple precaution.
Procrastinating again.
She found the number printed under the official header on the form letter and dialed it. She expected to be put on hold and braced herself for the Muzak that would undoubtedly follow. To her surprise, a human answered.
“Division of Criminal Justice. Can I help you?”
Criminal Justice. Well, that was a little like stepping into an ice-cold shower. Hard to pretend Kip was just another volunteer. Jordan explained the situation.
“What’s your question?”
“I’m confused because I didn’t even realize our project was part of this kind of program. I have no idea what we are supposed to do.”
The woman sighed. “Didn’t they explain all of that to you when they did the site visit?”
“Ah—that would be a no. Like, no site visit.”
“Let me check something. Please hold.”
The line went to static. Jordan fidgeted. Maybe it really was all a mistake. Would that mean Kip would be sent somewhere else? Jordan’s breath shortened. She didn’t want her to disappear.
“All right,” the exceptionally helpful woman said, “I’ve checked the list of assignment sites. Your organization is listed.”
“Is there any way I can find out the details?”
“I’ll transfer you to the community resources section.”
After a fair amount of phone tag and more waiting, Jordan was finally connected to someone who identified himself as a community service director.
“I wanted some information about Catherine Kensington. She’s been assigned to community service at a project I oversee. Can you tell me anything?”
“I’m sorry,” responded the pleasant-sounding man whose name she’d immediately forgotten. “Those files are not available to me.”
Jordan blew out a breath. “Well, how would I find out what the circumstances are? Shouldn’t we be informed of the details if we’re responsible for overseeing their involvement here?”
“I can connect you to the probation office. They may be able to direct you to the case officer.”
Jordan resisted the urge to bang her head on the desk. “Can the case officer tell me—”
“I think I can probably save you some time,” Kip said from behind her.
Jordan’s heart leapt into her throat. Her face heated. She felt like the guilty party. She looked over her shoulder, and the rest of the officer’s words were lost on her. Kip’s face was set, blank as a statue someone had begun to carve and forgot to finish. Nothing behind her eyes, the sensuous lips closed tightly, no lines of anger or accusation. If she hadn’t talked to Kip, hadn’t seen her laughing, hadn’t caught the spark in her eyes when she teased, she would’ve thought the woman facing her to be cold and remote. That wasn’t what she read behind Kip’s stoic façade now, though. She’d heard the resignation in her voice, sensed the withdrawal and the closing of whatever door had opened between them.
“Thank you, you’ve been helpful. I’ll try back later.” Jordan disconnected the call, pushed her phone aside, and swung around to face Kip. What could she say? She wanted to apologize, but she wasn’t even sure what she would say she was sorry for. “This is all new to me. Your showing up here is…unexpected.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“I don’t want you to be sorry, damn it. I just—” Jordan pushed a hand through her hair. Words deserted her. Or at least the only ones she thought of weren’t the ones she wanted. Why was it so difficult to just come out and say it? She’d never had problems before making herself clear.
“Why don’t you just say it, Jordan? It’ll probably be easier for both of us.”
“How do you do that? Know what I’m thinking practically before I do?”
Kip finally smiled, a small one, one tinged with what might’ve been sadness, and then it was gone. Jordan missed it instantly.
“Your face is expressive, and your eyes even more so. You’re frustrated, maybe a little angry at yourself. Definitely pissed off at me.”
Jordan pointed a finger. “You’re wrong there. I’m not angry at you. It’s not your fault that you’re here.”
Kip scoffed. “Of course it is. Have you forgotten exactly why I’m here?”
“You know, you’re doing a good job of punishing yourself—I’m not sure the community service is even needed. I get that you did some—”
“Let’s not sugarcoat it. I broke the law.” Kip leaned her back against the side of the open doorway and folded her arms across her chest, almost daring Jordan to disagree.
“Yes, fine,” Jordan snapped. God, Kip was aggravating at times. “You broke the law and you’re being punished. But you didn’t choose to be here.”
“Well, apparently I’m supposed to be suffering in some way. That’s the whole point of being sentenced.”
“What exactly bothers you the most—what you did or the sentence?”
“Being here is not a punishment. I’m half afraid someone will figure that out and tell me it’s a mistake.” Kip’s eyes, dark and wounded, found Jordan’s for an instant. “The sentence doesn’t bother me.”
When the brief connection broke, Jordan tried to recapture Kip’s gaze and failed. Disappointed, irrationally feeling abandoned, she said, “Don’t you think that says something about you?”
“Yeah, I do. It says my judgment sucks and you should probably know that. It undoubtedly says a lot of other things I’d rather not think about, if it’s all the same to you.”
Jordan hesitated. She should let it go, try going through offici
al channels again, but that seemed the coward’s way out. She needed to reach Kip, face-to-face, not call around behind her back. “Can you tell me what you did, or is that something you don’t want to talk about either?”
Silence stretched for an interminable moment. Kip sighed.
“I was arrested for driving a stolen car.”
Jordan heard the words, but couldn’t quite decipher them. She stared at Kip. “I’m sorry. Are you telling me you stole a car? Why on earth would you do that?”
“I didn’t exactly say that, but it amounts to the same thing.”
Jordan tried to work out what exactly Kip was saying. That she hadn’t stolen it, or she had stolen it? Obviously she was driving it. And whatever the circumstances, she didn’t want to talk about them. And probably that was fair. Kip had answered her question. What more could she really expect. “All right. Fair enough. Is that something you make a habit of doing?”
Kip winced, but a smiled flickered too. “Actually, no, and I don’t habitually have a problem with lifting things that don’t belong to me.”
“So I don’t have to worry about the rakes going missing?”
“Your tools are safe.” Kip’s gaze darkened for an instant. “And so is everything else. Including you.”
Kip’s tone had grown darker along with her gaze, a slow, sensuous heaviness that made Jordan’s throat tighten. “I never doubted that. You must know that.”
“I’ll bet you thought about it, about me being a threat. It’s only natural. No hard feelings.”
Again the shift in tone. This time a cold, hard edge crept into Kip’s words. The heat was gone, the distance between them visible. Ice crystals settled on Jordan’s skin. What did she expect? That they’d be able to go back to teasing and flirting after she’d basically forced Kip to confess? Right. They’d be lucky to salvage a working relationship that wasn’t horribly awkward. But she had to at least try to do that. “Can we start from here, then?”
Kip pushed away from the door. The sun was behind her, her face in shadow. “Sure. What do you need me to do out here?”
Jordan stood. So that’s the way it was going to be. Just what she’d told herself it should be. Business, and just that. A friendly distance. She could do that, had always known she should do that. “We’re planting this afternoon. You should grab some lunch and then I’ll show you what to do.”
“Right. Half an hour okay?”
“Kip, your service is voluntary, remember? Take what time you need.”
“You should probably keep track, because I don’t think anyone is going to believe me on that score.”
“All right, yes. Until I hear otherwise, I’ll do that.”
“Thanks.” Kip turned, jumped down to the ground without bothering with the steps, and disappeared.
“Well, that sucked,” Jordan muttered. She stared through the open door, replaying everything she’d said and wishing she could take it back and start over, somewhere that didn’t begin with her forcing Kip to talk about things that hurt her.
“Everything all right?” Tya climbed into the trailer. “I just saw Kip leave. She looked a little grim.”
“I’m not surprised.”
Tya raised a brow. “Is it that bad?”
“Do you trust me?”
“Of course.”
“All right. I know what she did, and it isn’t anything that would impact us or the kids or her working here. Is that good enough?”
“I won’t say I’m not curious, but I get that it’s private.” Tya shrugged. “I’ve done a few things I’d prefer to leave buried. And of course I trust you. I’m sorry if I ever made you feel that I didn’t.”
Jordan closed her eyes for an instant. “No, you didn’t. You were right about me asking questions, and I know it. It’s just so damn awkward.”
“Especially when you really like her.”
Jordan let that pass. Liking her wasn’t the issue. Liking her too much was. “We’ll all be spending time together this summer, and I hope that it won’t make anyone uncomfortable.”
“Hey, it’ll be fine.”
“Right. You’re right.” Jordan determined to believe what she was saying, even when nothing felt right at all.
*
Kip headed in the general direction of Central Park, just walking, just wanting to put distance between her and her humiliation. At least she was getting plenty of exercise. Threading her way through midday crowds, she bought a bag of roasted nuts from a street cart and ate them without tasting them. The sun was on her back, and before long sweat trickled between her shoulder blades. She’d need more than a walk to purge the embarrassment of explaining to Jordan what she’d done. She was no stranger to shame, along with guilt and self-recrimination, or how long the foul taste lingered in the back of her throat. She hadn’t always known the words, but then she’d only been ten, after all. The feelings were exactly the same, though, the wanting to hide, to be invisible, to erase what she had done. Or failed to do.
She dropped the bag of nuts into an open barrel, crossed the street to the park, and found a bench in a shady corner by Turtle Pond along with the homeless who stretched out on most of the available benches. A few pensioners threw peanuts to the birds, but she was already far away, bouncing on what remained of their sailboat with her fingers clenched around Randy’s arm and no one else in sight. No one else at all.
She should have reached her, should have held on to her too, like she held on to Randy and the sharp edge of the boat that made cuts in her hand. Their fingers had barely grazed before she was just…gone. And when the men came in the big boat with the orange vests and the loud voices shouting over and over, all she could do was point to where her mother had been. But she wasn’t there anymore.
She knew shame then. And fear.
Spots danced before Kip’s eyes and her stomach turned over. She lowered her head and laced her fingers behind her neck. She hadn’t felt anything like it in years. It would pass. Even the cold, clammy sweat of being locked in the cell was nothing like this. It would pass soon. When she was certain she wouldn’t vomit, she straightened and blinked sweat from her eyes. An elderly woman with stockings rolled down to her blue-veined ankles, shapeless house slippers, and an even more faded, shapeless dress stood a few feet away. She held two plastic shopping bags over her right arm and a drugstore cane in her left hand. “Are you feeling all right, dearie?”
“Actually, I feel terrible.”
“Something you ate?”
Kip grimaced. “No. Nightmare.”
“Oh.” The old woman nodded as if Kip had actually explained anything. “I’ve got a bottle of water if that would help.”
“Will you let me pay for it?”
The woman cocked her head, her tight gray curls barely moving. “That seems fair.”
Kip fished a twenty out of her wallet and held it out. “Here you go.”
“That’s quite a lot for a bottle of water.”
“Not when you need it as much as I do. It’s an even exchange.”
“Hmm. You would know best, then.” The woman searched in a bag and came up with a plastic bottle of water. She passed it to Kip, took the twenty, and carefully slipped it into a voluminous black pocketbook that resided with the grocery bags. “I hope you get to bury your ghosts someday.”
“How did you know I had them?”
“I’ve had a few myself. Recognized the look.” She nodded, her gaze on something far away, and turned to go. “Good luck, dearie.”
“How did you get rid of them?” Kip called after her.
“I learned to forgive.”
“Who?”
“Myself.”
Kip watched her shuffle away. Too bad that wasn’t going to work for her.
Chapter Twelve
“I think we’re going to need a new spigot over here.” Tya danced around in a fountain of water spewing from the hose connection. “I can’t get it to turn off.”
“Of course not,” Jordan muttered,
because why should anything actually work around here. She took a breath. “See if you can find the shutoff valve inside the shed. I’ll look at it as soon as I can.”
“Okay.” Tya raced away as a rainbow glittered in the arcing spray.
Pretty, at least. Jordan went back to transplanting the tomato seedlings, cradling their delicate roots in cardboard sleeves to help keep the slugs away. Not that there were any just yet, but there would be once it warmed up a little bit more.
She’d look at the incontinent hose later. She’d gotten fairly handy at fixing things out of pure necessity, but she didn’t enjoy working with tools. Invariably she jammed her finger, cut herself, or managed to make the problem worse. If Kip had been there, she would’ve asked her to check it. But the afternoon had dragged on, and Kip hadn’t come back. Kip wasn’t under any obligation to come back, and Jordan had said as much to her. Practically told her in so many words not to return if she didn’t want to. Maybe Kip had had enough of people poking into her business.
She probably got a lot of that, or she would if whatever had happened followed her around. And it would. Jordan shook her head, no stranger to the unwanted attention that came from the curious and even the well-meaning. She’d fled as quickly as she could from unwanted scrutiny and told herself that wasn’t the reason she avoided going home. But it was, partly, avoiding the curious stares or the sympathetic ones, or the ones that still held the acid edge of condemnation. As if somehow she was at fault, if she’d only been around, seen the signs, chipped in to help the way she should have instead of staying away at school. Sighing, chasing away the ghost of a time she had soundly put into the past, she straightened and pressed a hand to the small of her back. As much as she loved gardening, sometimes the work was a chore.
“What do you think?” Tya joined her by the raised bed where she was digging.
“About what?” She had too many thoughts about too many things, things she wished she didn’t need to think about. The hurt in Kip’s eyes, the shame she felt for putting it there, the gnawing worry that Kip was gone for good.