by Andrew Grey
“Please, no cancer, Daddy. I wanna go for a ride in the police car.” He closed his big blue eyes, and Jordan looked even more afraid.
“How long has Jeremiah been with you?”
“Eight months,” Jordan said. “He’d been through so much. His mother is dead, and his father is God knows where. He reportedly took off after Jeremiah was born and hasn’t been seen since. At least that’s what I’m told. Jordan went into the foster care system and was diagnosed shortly afterward. He spent months alone in a children’s hospital, with only the social workers coming to spend time with him.”
“Miss Amy was nice. Miss Kelly was mean,” Jeremiah added, making a yucky face.
“Kelly was the nurse who gave him transfusions and shots. She’s very nice, and they all cared for you a lot. Remember your birthday party?” Jordan asked, and Jeremiah nodded slowly. “They all came and brought you presents.” Jordan stroked Jeremiah’s forehead. “I met him while he was still in the hospital.”
“Jordan had childhood leukemia,” Gertrude explained. “So when he met Jeremiah, he fell in love with him, and then when he found out he needed a family, Jordan petitioned to be his foster parent and is in the process of adopting him.”
“But he’s my daddy,” Jeremiah said, holding Jordan’s hand and staring up at him with open admiration.
“Hello,” a doctor said as he came in. “I understand your tummy hurts.”
Jeremiah nodded. “I throwed up… a lot.”
“I’m Dr. Andy. Can I look you over? I promise no pokey shots for now.” He held up his hands, and Jeremiah nodded his approval. “What did you have to eat?”
“Macaroni and cheese,” Jeremiah answered, then turned to Jordan. “I need to go potty, bad.”
“Do you want me to carry you?” Jordan asked, and Jeremiah threaded his arms around his neck.
“I’ll show you,” Dr. Andy said, and Jordan lifted Jeremiah up and carried him out of the room.
They returned a few minutes later, with Jeremiah still clinging to Jordan. “You were very good.”
“But he wanted to see my poop,” Jeremiah said with astonishment as Jordan settled him in bed.
“Sometimes we learn things,” Dr. Andy said. “Now, you look like you’re feeling a little better.” He took Jeremiah’s temperature again. “It’s down, but he’s still got a fever. I want to run a few tests just to rule out any sort of recurrence, but I think he has a touch of the flu and he might have a problem with dairy. Does he drink a lot of milk?”
“No. He’ll eat ice cream and some cheese, but he says he doesn’t like a lot of it.”
“That’s a good sign. Some kids have issues with cow’s milk. We don’t know what formula he was on as a baby or if his mother was aware, but my suggestion is to eliminate dairy altogether for a while and then test his reactions slowly. Some kids can tolerate some milk, and others none.” Dr. Andy leaned over the bed. “We need to take a little blood. I’m sorry, but we need to know that the yucky cancer is gone. I’ll have the nurse be gentle. I promise.”
“No pokey needles.” Jeremiah pulled his arms to his sides, pushing them underneath to hide them.
“Remember that Mr. Pierre said you could ride in a police car if you were good.” Jordan didn’t scold, and when Jeremiah turned to him, Pierre nodded gently.
“I know you hate needles. I do too. They’re yucky. But they need to make sure there isn’t any cancer,” Pierre told him, reaching into his pocket to pull out his case. “Here, you can hold that for me if you want. But don’t lose it.” He handed Jeremiah his badge, and the boy stared at it, running his fingers over the design.
“Can I be a policeman when I grow up?” Jeremiah asked.
“You can be whatever you want.” Jordan hugged him gently. “I’ve enrolled him in ballet class. The Central Pennsylvania Youth Ballet is one of the best in the country, and I want him to learn to move. Even if he doesn’t stick with it, he’ll learn a lot.”
“I wanna dance.” Jeremiah turned to Pierre. “Can I be a dancing policeman?” He giggled.
“Someone is doing better,” the nurse said as she came in. “I’m gonna take a little blood and your temperature again. I promise to be gentle.”
Jeremiah clearly wasn’t happy, but he let her get his blood, holding Pierre’s badge like a talisman. When she was done, she took his temperature and gave him a squirt of medication on his tongue.
“It’s still elevated. We’ll see if the Children’s Tylenol will bring it down. Give it a few minutes.” She left the room, and it wasn’t long before Jeremiah’s eyes drifted closed and he fell asleep.
“Thank goodness. Sleep is best,” Gertrude said.
“Now we just need to wait for the tests.” Jordan continued holding Jeremiah’s hand.
“Is Jeremiah okay… or has he been, I should ask?”
Jordan nodded slowly. “He started getting better right after I brought him home, and he’s been improving really well. Three months ago his tests came back clear, and he’s been getting stronger and healthier by the day.” The worry was plain in Jordan’s eyes. “I don’t want him to go through that again.”
“How is the adoption progressing?”
“Well. There is no one to contest it, and Jeremiah has been in the system long enough that they want a home for him. But we’ve encountered prejudice and roadblocks from people who don’t think a gay man is a fit parent.” Jordan shook his head. “The first time I told the lady at the courthouse that I’d ask Judge Fortier what he thought of that attitude, she backpedaled pretty quickly.” He stroked Jeremiah’s forehead. “We still have a long way to go until the final hearing, but all of the home visits have been stellar.”
“I suppose it can be like walking on eggshells.”
“Yeah. Every step forward means there’s more for me to lose.” Jordan’s features grew gentle as he looked at Jeremiah. “You don’t need to stay. I can call a friend to take me home. It could take some time to get the test results, and….”
“It’s all right.” Pierre took a step back so he’d be out of the way, watching this little family as Jordan rested his head next to Jeremiah’s. A fierce longing washed over him, tugging and pulling at him. This was what he wanted—a family of his own. The love between the two of them was so evident. Jeremiah holding Jordan’s hand in his even in sleep, Jordan stroking Jeremiah’s forehead—it was all so tender, gentle, and loving. He wanted that in his life.
“I’m going to see if I can find some coffee or something. We’re going to be a while and it’s getting late.” Gertrude stood and left the area. Obviously they had both been through this routine many times before.
“Is this what happens when…?” God, he wasn’t even sure how to phrase the question.
“Sometimes. You never know how the disease will manifest itself after remission. For years after I was declared cancer-free, Mom jumped at each sneeze and had me on the way to the hospital for a stubbed toe. It’s part of dealing with all this. You get hypersensitive. That’s why I raced back when Mom called and why she didn’t write this off as just a case of the flu. You’re just extra cautious.” Jordan returned his attention to Jeremiah.
Pierre checked the clock on the wall and then did it again a few minutes later, wondering just how long it would be before they heard anything. This sort of thing had to be nerve-racking for Jordan. It already had Pierre on edge.
Gertrude returned with three cups of coffee and handed them out. It tasted like burned glue, but he sipped it. Gertrude sat back down. “Anything?”
Jordan shook his head. “It’s going to be a while. As busy as they are, things will be backed up, and it’s late, so they aren’t going to have a huge staff here to run tests just in case someone comes in.”
Pierre excused himself and set his coffee on the little stand near the bed. He went out to the desk, mentioned who he was there with, and asked when they would know something. He tried to be charming, and the assistant looked at him as though he had two heads, so he le
aned closer, explained who he was, and let some authority slip into his voice. “I asked how long it would be.”
She checked the computer. “The results just came back, and the doctor needs to look at them.”
“Thank you.” Pierre smiled and returned to the room. “They’re waiting for the doctor to check the results.” He picked up his coffee again. Often being a police officer had its perks, and a little vocal authority backed up by something official usually did the trick.
Dr. Andy came in. “He came back with the flu. Jeremiah might also have a milk problem as well. So I’d remove it from his diet and reintroduce it a little at a time to see how he feels.”
Jordan breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you.”
Jeremiah began fussing, and Jordan gave him a small drink of water.
“Give him plenty of fluids and let him rest. I suggest you see his doctor in a day or two if he isn’t better.” Dr. Andy held Jeremiah’s hand. “You were a good patient and you deserve that ride in the police car.” He left the room, and a nurse came in with forms. Jordan lifted Jeremiah into his arms and carried him out of the hospital and to Pierre’s car.
Pierre drove Gertrude home before he took Jeremiah and Jordan to the condo.
“I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Are you sure?” It was late, and Jordan was most likely going to be up most of the night with Jeremiah.
“I have to be.” Jordan waved slightly and then carried Jeremiah inside. His answer seemed strange to Pierre, and he wondered just what Jordan meant. Something seemed very wrong, but there wasn’t a way to ask him about it just yet.
Pierre waited until Jordan was inside and then went home to his place alone, already missing what wasn’t his to begin with.
Chapter 2
THE LAST place Jordan wanted to be was sitting at his desk outside Judge Crawford’s chambers, but there he was. He’d borrowed his mom’s car until he made other arrangements and left Jeremiah with her, kissing his still-warm forehead before leaving. His fever had spiked once during the night, and then he’d thankfully cooled off after a little while and slept through the rest of the night. This morning he’d said he was hungry, so that was a good sign. Still, Jordan would rather be with Jeremiah than here. But there was no way he could do anything out of the ordinary. There was way too much at stake.
“How’s Jeremiah?” Pierre asked as he came in, causing Jordan to jump nearly a mile.
He took a deep breath to try to cover it. “He’s doing better.” Jordan smiled and looked up from the file he was printing. He needed to make sure everything was set and on his desk for the day. Jordan’s fingers shook a little as he typed, and he glanced over at Pierre. “Shouldn’t you check out the room and make sure everything is safe… or something?” God, all he wanted was for Pierre to not be standing there looking at him or he’d start to sweat. First, because Pierre was hot as hell and just looking at him sent ripples of heat racing up and down his spine. Secondly, he liked Pierre. He was a nice guy who had come to his rescue last night, taking him and Jeremiah to the hospital and making sure they were okay. But third, he was freaking out, and that trumped everything.
Jordan wasn’t sure who he could trust. He needed this job, and he needed to not rock the boat so he could get Judge Taylor to finalize Jeremiah’s adoption. Nothing else mattered other than making sure the little boy who had taken up residency in his heart and home got to stay there.
“There’s no need to be nervous or anything,” Pierre said, watching him intently.
“I’m….” Jordan pushed back his chair. “Hell, I don’t know what’s going on, okay? I just need to get this done before the judge gets in. I don’t know anything, and I’m not involved in anything.” God, he had suddenly become infected with a case of verbal diarrhea. He needed to shut the hell up and get back to work.
Heavy footsteps sounded outside the door, and Jordan returned his attention to his computer and printed the last of the case documents. Somehow he managed to get the documents together and on his desk just as the judge walked in.
He brought Judge Crawford his coffee and left him alone in his office. Jordan was so nerved up that he couldn’t see straight, and he certainly couldn’t look at his boss the same way any longer. Thankfully Pierre had left his area, so Jordan could breathe. He should have kept his curiosity to himself. That was all there was to it. But no. He’d thought he could organize some of the old files, which had turned out not to be so old. Dammit, all he wanted was to do his job and leave it at that.
“Jordan, do you have the docket for tomorrow?” Judge Crawford asked, and Jordan had to do his best not to seem surprised. He handed him the schedule for the week and waited for him to leave. It was hard for him not to wonder about the judge. His suits and perfect appearance had always been impressive, sort of the judge’s way of bringing dignity to his office, but for the last few days, he’d seen it for what it really was—a way for him to show off his status, which obviously came with a price.
Jordan worked head down for the next hour, until it was time for court. Then he stayed at his desk, answering the phone and relaxing just a little. He was so afraid to look at the judge for fear he would know what Jordan had seen. He had to be cool and figure some shit out.
His cell phone rang and he answered it. “How is he?” he asked his mom right away.
“Fine. He says he wants ice cream because his throat hurts.”
Jordan sighed. “No dairy for him. He can have sorbet if you have it, otherwise a popsicle, but that’s it. I don’t want his stomach getting upset again, and please try to get him to rest.” Jeremiah was an active kid most of the time, and as soon as he was feeling better, it was going to be hard keeping him down.
“I know. I told him he needs to rest. But he’s definitely feeling better.”
“Thanks, Mom.” At least that was one worry off his mind. “I need to go and get back to work. But I’ll pick up something for dinner on my way over.” It was the least he could do after she was willing to watch Jeremiah. Usually he went to day care, but when he was ill, she took care of him.
“Okay. I need to go.” She hung up, and Jordan slipped his phone back into his pocket, returning to the tasks at hand.
Thankfully, though the court day seemed to run long, things finished just before it was time for him to leave. Jordan had had to have his car towed, and they had called to say it was done and asked if he needed a ride. Just his luck, another expense to strain his finances. The biggest stress on the budget was Jeremiah, though he’d gladly push his budget and everything else in his life to the breaking point for the little boy he already thought of as a son.
“Do you need a ride?” Pierre asked. “I escorted the judge out to his car and thought I’d check on you. I know your car needed some work, so I thought I’d ask.”
Jordan’s heart beat a little faster. “You don’t need to do that. I just need to call the garage and they’ll pick me up.”
Pierre rolled his eyes. “Come on. It’s silly for you to sit here and wait for them.”
“If you’re sure….”
Pierre nodded and sat while Jordan got his things. Then he locked up the files and the office as he left, following Pierre out and down to the street.
“This is very nice of you.”
Pierre snorted, a completely unattractive sound that made Jordan smile. “I’m a nice guy, and I get a few minutes alone with you in the car.”
Now it was Jordan’s turn to snort. “Please….” He wasn’t used to being noticed by anyone. Much of his childhood had been consumed fighting a disease that was as insidious as it was painful, and when he was finally through the fight, he was so far behind the other kids that he spent much of his time trying to catch up and not a lot of it doing the things other kids did.
“What?” Pierre asked as they left the courthouse, stepping out in the heat, and Jordan was grateful for the shade of the large trees in front. “That surprises you? That I might notice you?” Pierre stopped, turning
to him right there on the street with such naked heat that Jordan forgot where he was supposed to be going and ended up standing still at the edge of the street.
It did surprise him, but he was having trouble talking at that exact second. “A nerdy guy like me with a child isn’t very attractive to most people.” He waited for Pierre, who pressed the button for the crossing signal and then stood close enough that his shadow fell on Jordan and his heat radiated through Jordan’s shirt. “And you….” He swallowed once again.
Pierre was stunning, with a touch of olive to his skin, jet-black hair, and a perfectly trimmed short beard without a hair out of place. Pierre could have worked in movies as a swoonworthy leading man as far as Jordan was concerned. When Pierre was near, Jordan tried not to look at him, but his eye was drawn to more than just his appearance. This time Pierre’s gaze met his, and Jordan’s throat went dry.
The light changed and he stood motionless while others moved around him. With a small shake, Jordan blinked and finally followed Pierre across the street. He needed to get his thoughts where they should be… and that didn’t include watching Pierre’s bubble butt encased in blue fabric bobbing in front of him. When he reached the other side, Pierre turned back, and Jordan blushed, turning away quickly, even though he knew he’d been caught looking. Not that Pierre seemed to mind.
They continued on past the church on the square and around the back to where parking was reserved for officers and official vehicles. “Do you need to check in or something?”
“I did already. The sheriff’s department is working with Carlisle PD to try to find our letter writer, but we aren’t getting anywhere. There just isn’t enough to go on yet.” He sighed and his eyes grew hard. “I hate it when I have a case and don’t know the next step to take.” They reached his car and Pierre unlocked the doors. “Carter was able to find out that it was printed on a laser printer, but they’re so common now, and the handwriting is no help unless we have something to compare it to.”