A New Leaf

by Thomas Kinkade

  “It’s my sister-in-law,” she admitted with a grin.

  He shrugged. “That still counts.”

  Yes, it did, Molly thought, feeling pleased with herself. Maybe she really was on her way.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  TUCKER HAD JUST FINISHED HIS PATROL WHEN, DRIVING UP Emerson Street, he spotted another police cruiser coming in the opposite direction. The officer signaled with his lights for Tucker to pull up and talk. It was Tom Schmidt.

  Schmidt walked over to him after they’d both parked. “I’ve got some news for you, Tucker. I just heard from this friend of mine on the job in Hamilton. He collared some kids breaking and entering at about two A.M. last night. The silent alarm went off, and they were caught red-handed. My buddy says they found a load of stolen goods back at the ranch, including some trinkets from the Degan house. How do you like that?”

  Tucker’s mouth went dry. He had mixed emotions about the news, that was for sure: happy to hear Carl wasn’t the guilty one after all but feeling even guiltier now for having doubted his brother.

  “Thanks for letting me in on this, Schmidt. I appreciate it.”

  “Some of the guys have been hard on you. I don’t think that’s right. Sanborn, too. He owes you an apology in my book.”

  My book, too, Tucker thought, though he doubted he’d ever hear it. The two police officers parted, and Tucker drove on, with a lot to think about.

  Once he went off duty, he called a friend at the Hamilton police department and got the full story. The thieves were two teenage boys with a history of truancy, shoplifting, vandalism, and a general all-around bad attitude. Future Carls. After their cache of stolen property was found, they confessed to the North Creek Road burglary, which was just one among many.

  Fran was up in the bedroom, putting laundry away, when Tucker got home that evening. Things had been strained between them ever since her revelation about the stickpin. He knew she was sorry. He kept reminding himself that he loved her—he knew he did—but he just felt hollow and sad inside. Something between them was injured and neither one knew how to heal it.

  Now she looked at him, and he could tell from her reaction that he had a strange expression on his face.

  “What is it, Tucker? Are you all right?”

  “I had some news today.” He took his shield off his shirt and dropped it on his dresser. “They caught some kids in Hamilton who have been robbing houses. They did the Degan house on North Creek Road. Confessed to it and everything.”

  “Oh.” Fran looked surprised. She sat down suddenly on the bed, a bundle of towels in her lap. “That is news.”

  “I’ll say.” Tucker turned to her, feeling angry all over again. “Everybody around here had Carl made out for guilty, and he was telling the truth all along. We weren’t fair to him.”

  Fran sighed and shrugged. “Well, we tried, Tucker.”

  Tucker glared at her. He felt suddenly as if he were about to explode. “That’s supposed to be okay? That’s a good enough excuse for you? That we tried?” He laughed harshly and shook his head. “We didn’t try hard enough. We were ready to believe the worst of him the first chance we got. Both of us.”

  Fran lifted her head, looking indignant at his accusation. “I know I was wrong to think he took my pin. But honestly, Tucker, given his history . . . even you suspected him.”

  “You see, that’s it exactly.” Tucker heard his voice rising on a note of anger, but he felt so frustrated with Fran all of a sudden, he couldn’t control it. “It’s not fair to have suspected Carl of taking your pin or of the robbery. It’s not right. We didn’t treat him like other people—like a decent human being ought to be treated. We never gave him the benefit of the doubt. And he’s my brother, besides. Don’t you see? It makes me sick to think about it. And I’m as guilty of it as you are.”

  He stared at her, breathless from his outburst. She shivered, looking suddenly fragile. Then she met his eyes.

  “You’re right,” she said. “We were terribly unfair to Carl.”

  Just hearing her say that eased something in Tucker’s heart.

  “It’s a shame Carl isn’t around to hear about those kids in Hamilton,” she went on.

  Tucker turned suddenly and yanked his blue shirt out of his pants. “I’m going to take a few days off and go look for him. He should know his name has been cleared around here, and I’m going to tell him.”

  “Where will you look?”

  “Up in Portland, Maine. Reverend Ben gave me an address where Carl asked him to send a paycheck. I can start there, I guess. I’ll take some personal time and leave tomorrow.”

  “How long will you be gone?”

  Tucker shrugged and pulled on a sweatshirt. “I don’t know. As long as it takes. I hope he hasn’t gone too far by now.”

  Fran was quiet for a moment. “I hope so, too.” She touched Tucker’s arm as she walked by him. “I’ll get the small blue suitcase. It’s in the hall closet somewhere.”

  TUCKER WAS PACKED AND READY EARLY THE NEXT MORNING, DRESSED in his sports clothes. After Michael and Mary Ellen left for school, he put his coffee cup in the sink and kissed Fran good-bye.

  “Okay, I’m going. I’ll call you from the road.”

  “Yes, don’t forget. I like to know where you are.” Fran gave him a small smile. “Take care of yourself. Drive safely. Don’t eat a lot of junk food on the highway.”

  Tucker didn’t answer. He could see that she didn’t know what to say.

  “I love you, Tucker,” she said quietly.

  “I love you, too. You know that.”

  She nodded, looking suddenly as if she were about to cry. Then she kissed his cheek again, her hand lingering on his chest. “Good luck. I really hope you find him.”

  “I do, too,” he answered.

  Tucker reached Portland about two hours later. He hadn’t been up this way in years and was surprised to see how much the city had changed, especially down on the waterfront. The rundown wharf areas were filled with restaurants, condos, and hotels. The old warehouses across the way held slick-looking office space, fancy shops, and designer coffeehouses for the tourists who roamed the winding cobblestone streets, toting their shopping bags.

  He didn’t know the city very well, but with the aid of a map, he located Carl’s mailing address. He was not surprised to find himself in a rundown neighborhood, one that had been bypassed by the development boom. Here the houses looked old and badly in need of repair. Some were squat single-family homes on tiny patches of property, others were semidetached two-family homes of post–World War II vintage. It was the kind of neighborhood Tucker more or less expected.

  He finally found the address at the end of the street, a larger three-story building that looked as if it was once an old apartment house. Judging from the sign in front, it appeared to be a shelter now, run by some charitable organization.

  So, maybe Carl really didn’t have a friend up here after all, Tucker realized. Or maybe Carl hadn’t been able to find his friend. Whatever the reason, the bottom line was Carl had been reduced again to shelter life, which upset Tucker even more.

  He got out of his car and went inside. The place was dark and depressing. He walked into a common room furnished with broken-down armchairs and a slip-covered couch that sagged in the middle. A group of men sat watching a big TV, most of them smoking. A window fan circulated warm air and cigarette ashes.

  Tucker scanned the circle of faces but didn’t see Carl. They each stared back at him suspiciously. Even out of uniform, Tucker guessed many could still tell he was a cop. Carl once said he could just smell it on him.

  Tucker walked farther down a main hall. The scent of pine disinfectant was nearly overpowering. He found an office and, in it, a paunchy middle-aged man with a long, stringy ponytail sitting behind a desk. The name tag on his T-shirt read, “House Manger, Ralph Newman.” The guy had a look about him, Tucker thought, as if he’d been through it all and had come out the other side, calmer, wiser, looking to
help men like himself find their way back.

  “I’m trying to find my brother,” Tucker explained. “He gave this place as a mailing address. Can you tell me if he’s still here? Maybe you have some log book or records I can look at.”

  “We don’t ask the men to sign anything. It seems easier for most of them that way. Do you have a picture? Maybe I’ll remember him.”

  “No, I don’t.” Tucker felt bad that he didn’t even have a single photo of Carl. He had tried to include him in one on Easter Sunday, but Carl was terribly camera shy.

  He ended up describing Carl’s physical appearance as best as he could. The man gave him a thoughtful look.

  “I think I remember that guy. He looks something like you, now that you mention it.”

  Tucker felt his face flush. He never thought of himself as resembling Carl, but he supposed it was true.

  “Right, Carl Tulley. He was waiting for a letter, and once it came, he left. That was about two weeks ago. I haven’t seen him since.”

  Tucker didn’t answer. That must have been the letter from Reverend Ben with Carl’s back pay. By now Carl could be anywhere.

  “Sorry I couldn’t help you more.” Tucker could tell from the man’s expression that he must look awfully disappointed.

  “That’s all right. Do you have any suggestions about where else I can go? Some other shelters in the city, maybe?”

  “Sure. I have a list somewhere around here. I’ll get it for you. It’s the cold weather that drives them indoors, though,” he added while riffling through a desk drawer. “Once it warms up, he really could be anywhere. You should check the parks, especially along the waterfront. The hospitals and police stations, too. But I guess you already know that.”

  Tucker knew he would find Carl quickly if his brother had either gotten sick again or arrested. But he hoped that wasn’t the case.

  Ralph handed Tucker the list. Tucker thanked him and said good-bye. Then he remembered to leave his name and cell-phone number just in case Carl returned.

  “I haven’t found a motel yet. But I’ll call you later today with a number where you can reach me in case the cell phone doesn’t work. I’d sure appreciate a call if you see him around again.”

  “Sure, I’ll do that. Should I let him know that you’re trying to get in touch?” The man’s look was curious.

  “Uh, no. I’d rather you didn’t. It’s hard to explain.”

  “Okay. I understand.” Tucker thanked him again and left the shelter. He stood on the sidewalk a long time, clearing his head with the fresh air. On a scale of one to ten, the shelter was about a negative five kind of place to live in, Tucker thought. But right now, Carl might have it even worse.

  Tucker grabbed a quick bite at a drive-through window, gobbling the food in his car with one hand while he navigated more of Portland’s back streets. He spent the rest of the day checking the shelters on the list and the parks he noticed along the way.

  At six o’clock he wasn’t close to finished, but he decided to find a motel room. He let himself in and dropped his bag near the door, not even bothering to put on the lights. The day had been exhausting. Despite his best intentions to call Fran, he dropped down on the big bed and closed his eyes to rest.

  His determination of last night had been boiled down during the day to a layer of gritty resolve. The faces of the homeless men he’d seen today loomed up before him, their expressions blank, their dark stares accusing.

  The task seemed hopeless, but he wasn’t going to give up. He would call the police stations and hospitals tonight and try the other shelters tomorrow. Eventually he had to get some lead on Carl. Somebody somewhere had to remember him.

  Tucker closed his eyes. Dear Lord, wherever Carl is tonight, please give him comfort and shelter. Please let me find him and try to make things right.

  MOLLY’S FATHER ALWAYS SAID, “IF SOMETHING SEEMS TOO GOOD TO BE true, it probably is.” A cynical point of view, perhaps, and she’d been making a conscious effort to be more positive lately, but on Saturday morning, she couldn’t get that bit of wisdom out of her mind.

  Matthew called the day after Lauren’s birthday party and invited her to go sailing with him, just as he promised. That was the “too good to be true” part.

  On Saturday morning at about six o’clock, Jill shook Molly’s shoulder, waking her from a sweet dream.

  “Mom, I feel sick. I think I’m going to throw up.”

  Molly sat up in alarm and felt Jill’s forehead. She was burning with a fever. She needed a cool bath and some medicine. The look on Jill’s face told Molly that she needed to take immediate action. “Okay, let’s get into the bathroom, honey.”

  It was soon clear that Jill was quite sick. Too sick for Molly to leave—even for a date with Matthew.

  Lauren and Amanda were going with Phil to a water park for Lauren’s belated birthday celebration. Jill was supposed to go along, too. The poor kid was so miserable that Molly couldn’t even feel sorry for herself.

  Molly sighed and picked up the phone to call Matthew. So much for the long-awaited date. The fact that she was the one canceling this time did little to help her feel better. It feels as if this relationship just wasn’t meant to be, she thought dismally as she punched in his number.

  Matthew picked up on the second ring. “Molly, hi. I was just going to call you. The weather looks perfect. You’d better bring a hat and wear a lot of sunblock. But don’t worry about lunch; I’ve already taken care of that.”

  He sounded so excited, as if he was really looking forward to this. Molly hadn’t even thought that he might be disappointed, too.

  “I’m sorry, Matt, but Jill’s come down with some bug or something. She has a high fever and all the classic symptoms. I can’t leave her like this. I really have to stay home.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. There’s something going around the elementary school. I had a lot of calls this week.”

  “There’s always something going around the elementary school.” Molly suddenly felt so blue looking ahead to the long day she would spend alone with Jill.

  “I’m sure you know what to do. But why don’t I take a quick look at her later when I bring Amanda? I can hang out and keep you company awhile.”

  Molly thought he was just trying to be polite. “It’s okay, Matt. You don’t have to do that. I’m sure you would rather get outside today.”

  “Really, I want to. I can stay with Jill awhile if you need to go out anywhere.”

  If you’re here, why would I want to go out? Molly nearly answered.

  Finally, she said yes, then raced around trying to quickly ready the apartment and herself and at the same time take care of Jill and get Lauren ready for her outing.

  A short time later she opened the door to find Matt and Amanda. Amanda was ready for the water park, wearing her bathing suit under her clothes and carrying a knapsack. Matt still looked as if he were going sailing, wearing a T-shirt, baseball cap, khaki shorts, and boat shoes. He stumbled into her house carrying a large blue cooler.

  “What’s in there, your medical kit?” Molly couldn’t help teasing him.

  “Lunch. I packed some food for our trip. I thought we could have a picnic in your living room or something.”

  “Oh, that sounds fun. No bugs to worry about.” Molly stepped aside to let him pass. “Well . . . not too many.”

  Matt laughed, carrying the cooler into the kitchen. “There’s a lot of ice in here, but I’ll put the food in the refrigerator anyway.”

  “Go right ahead.” It looked like he planned on staying awhile. This was getting interesting.

  She was just about to close the door when she saw Phil coming up the hallway.

  “Hi, Molly. Are the girls ready?”

  “Lauren and Amanda are. But Jill is sick. She came down with something this morning.”

  “Gee, that’s too bad. Can I see her?” Phil stepped inside, and Molly closed the door.

  “Sure, she’s in bed, but I know she’s n
ot sleeping.” Molly followed him to the kitchen. “It’s just a little bug. I’m sure she’ll be all right in a day or two.”

  “But you called the doctor anyway, I see.” Phil smiled at Matt, who stood at the kitchen counter emptying containers from his cooler into the refrigerator. “I didn’t know doctors still made house calls—and stocked refrigerators, no less.”

  “This one does. Only for special patients, of course.” Matt turned and looked at Phil. He smiled, but in his eyes Molly noticed a challenging light, one that suggested he didn’t realize that Phil wasn’t his competition, after all.

  “We had a date to go sailing today. Matt offered to come here and visit for a while instead.”

  “Oh. I see.” Phil nodded. “I’ll just run in and say hello to Jill for a minute. Then we’ll get going.”

  A few minutes later Phil left with Lauren and Amanda. Amazing, Molly thought. Phil seemed to be accepting Matthew’s presence with far more grace than she expected.

  Matthew waited in the kitchen. He stood leaning against the counter as she entered, making her feel self-conscious.

  “I was just going in to check on Jill. Have you taken her temperature lately?”

  “About an hour ago. It was a little over one hundred and two.”

  “That’s not too bad. I brought her some ice pops. They’re a good way to get fluids in her if she can keep them down.”

  He had thought of everything, hadn’t he? Molly watched him retrieve an ice pop from the freezer and pick up a napkin from the counter.

  Molly led the way to Jill’s room, where Jill looked up from her pillows, her small pale face surrounded by dark hair.

  “How do you feel, honey?” Matt asked.

  “Terrible.” Jill crossed her arms over her chest and looked away. Matt glanced at Molly, suppressing a smile.

  “What’s wrong, Jill? Does your stomach still bother you?” Molly sat down on the edge of her bed and felt Jill’s forehead.

  Jill shook her head no, nearly shaking Molly’s hand away. “Everybody went to the water park without me. That’s not fair.” She was about two seconds away from bursting into tears.