A Family for Tyler

by Angel Smits

“To award custody? No.” Emily paused and took a breath. “I didn’t develop the relationship with the uncle until after that was complete. But as I got to see him and Tyler together more, it did make me cancel the court visits, though.”

  “Because you saw the good he did for the boy or because the uncle influenced you?”

  She had to think about how to answer. “I don’t think I can honestly say,” she finally admitted. “He didn’t try to influence me, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  Warren nodded and read a bit more in the file. “Three months of weekly visits? That’s a bit excessive, even for you.” He looked at her again.

  She smiled. “I admit to being a bit paranoid, but I was impartial at that point.”

  He didn’t smile back. Not that that surprised her. She wasn’t sure she’d ever seen him smile.

  “Fortunately, we’re in a good place.” He ran a finger down the page. “Doesn’t matter what we do at this point. It stands as is until one of those parents shows up and requests custody. But while canceling the visits seems appropriate, it’s a matter of public record that they were ordered.”

  Emily nodded.

  “Good decision.” Warren sat for a while, his fingers steepled at his chin. “And I can’t transfer it until they file a request. However...”

  Here came the part she’d been dreading.

  “This is a court of law, Ms. Ivers. There can’t be even a hint of impropriety. You’ve managed to straddle a fence here, and you’ve gotten lucky. If either of those parents thinks you weren’t totally impartial, they could have a case against you.”

  “I understand.”

  “Disbarment will end your career. You have a bright future, but you’re dangerously close to screwing it up.”

  “That’s why I sent the email.” His support was vital here. This wasn’t a big city where she could recover from a reprimand more easily. This was a small town, with only four judges and a long memory. “My career is important to me. I can’t lose it. But I’m also human, and I feel it’s worse to remain silent.”

  Every tick of the clock seemed to get louder as he sat thinking. He was not a judge known for speedy decisions, so while it drove her crazy it didn’t surprise her.

  “Continue the visits,” he finally said.

  “What?”

  Warren leaned forward. “They’re ordered. The only way to change that order is to open the case. Frankly, I don’t have the time right now. It’s a matter of public record and I won’t give any attorney fuel if those parents do return.”

  “But—”

  He held up a hand to silence her. “You created this. See it through. At some point you saw a need for it, and whatever that was, it’s probably still here. I appreciate your honesty.”

  Emily stood to leave. “Very well.”

  She’d taken just one step before he spoke her name.

  “I trust you. You have integrity. I know you’ll still do your job and protect the child no matter how well you know the uncle. If I didn’t believe that, you wouldn’t be working my court.” He extended the file folder to her. “If either of the parents comes back, bring this to me. I’ll oversee it.”

  Emily nodded, unsure if she was relieved or scared to death by that proclamation.

  * * *

  THE FIRST PERSON Wyatt contacted was Addie. As the oldest, it had always been the two of them, together, holding each other up and helping with their younger brothers and sisters.

  After Mom, the shock of Tyler’s and now DJ’s injuries, Wyatt wished someone else would take the reins for a while.

  Wyatt didn’t want to tell Addie over the phone. He timed his arrival at her house to be just a few minutes before she got home from work.

  He parked across the street. She’d see the truck, recognize it and assume the worst. He had a key to her place but decided to stay out on her front porch. It was screened in and nice this time of day.

  It helped that she’d put the chair she’d brought from Mom’s kitchen next to the small wicker love seat and the table she’d always had here. The familiar chair was comforting. He leaned back and propped his boots up on the rail, just to ruffle Addie’s feathers and knock the tension down a bit.

  As he’d expected, she drove into her drive and her eyes widened. She came running up the steps and didn’t even chastise him for having his boots on the rail.

  “What happened?”

  He stood and met her. “Sit down. Let’s talk.”

  “Is Tyler okay?” She edged down to the love seat.

  “Tyler’s fine. For now. I’m here about DJ.” He paused a moment to catch his breath. “His commanding officer called this afternoon. A Major Dixon.” He rushed to reassure her when she gasped. “DJ’s hurt, but he’s alive.”

  “Oh, thank God. Where is he?”

  “Germany. But he’s coming to Brooke Army Medical Center at some point.”

  “What...happened? From the look on your face, I don’t even want to know, do I?”

  “I don’t know.” Wyatt shrugged, ignoring the lump in his throat. “There was an explosion. He’s burned and has broken bones. I don’t know anything else.” Saying it out loud didn’t sound as bad as the images that had filled his head since Major Dixon’s call.

  Addie leaned forward, covering her face with her hands. “This year just sucks!” Then with a deep breath, she straightened her shoulders and looked up. “Have you told Tyler?”

  He shook his head and stood at the rail. “He’s been through so much. Poor kid.” He filled her in on the details of the E.R. trip, minus Emily’s presence there.

  “You have to tell him.”

  “I know that,” Wyatt snapped. His stress level was through the roof and he fought to bring it down. “But we need to figure out what’s going on first.”

  “How are you going to do that?”

  “I don’t know.” Sitting and waiting was not something he’d ever been good at. The afternoon stretched out long and quiet.

  Addie finally broke the silence. “Wyatt, damn it. Focus on you. On Tyler. When DJ gets home, we’ll deal with it together. You can’t keep planning everyone’s lives for them.”

  “That’s not what I’m doing.”

  She actually laughed. “Yeah, it is. It’s what you do. Sit down and listen to me.”

  Lord, she sounded just like Mom. He sat down before realizing why.

  “None of the others remember the boy you were before Dad died.” She looked him in the eye. “I do.”

  “That has nothing to do with this.”

  “Yes, it does.” She glared. “I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about it lately. So sit back and listen. That boy was as determined to raise hell as any of us. The day Dad died, the hell-raiser part of you died, too.”

  The silence of the afternoon was suddenly too quiet. He knew what she meant but he denied it, at least to her.

  She persisted. “Remember that summer just before Dad died?”

  How could he forget? It was the same summer he’d thought about recently and compared to the one Emily had lived. “Yeah.”

  “You had a blast. You just about drove Dad and Mom crazy.”

  “Yeah, I regret that.”

  “No, don’t you see? You drove them crazy, but they were proud of you, too. Mom said Dad had a hard time disciplining you for things that reminded him of himself. She said he used to have to go into the other room to hide his laughter.”

  “When did she tell you that?”

  “In those last couple months.”

  Sisters really were a pain.

  “Go home and talk to Tyler. He needs to know and he needs you. I’ll call the others.”

  “Now who’s making plans for everyone?”

  “Oh, I am. I know it. But I’m not the
one who has a nephew—and a judge—to worry about.”

  “Judge?” Wyatt’s head whipped up.

  Addie’s eyes twinkled with mischief. “What are you talking about?”

  “Ha.” She laughed. “You do know I talk to Tyler?”

  He did. She called a couple times a week and chatted with Tyler. Wyatt groaned as reality sank in.

  “Pumping a kid for information is low.”

  “Fishing trips? Sleepovers?” She waggled her eyebrows. “Do you really think that’s a good idea with an eight-year-old? You actually think he can keep a secret?”

  She enjoyed this too much, but at least it helped take her focus off DJ’s problems. Helped him, too.

  “Go home, Wyatt. Better yet, go see your girl.” Addie winked and pushed him toward his truck. “Let me know what else you hear.” The levity in her voice faded. “We’ll get through this.”

  Wyatt was a couple miles down the road before he even realized what his sister had done. “Damn, Addie, you’re good.”

  The sun was setting when Wyatt drove into the yard. He’d made better time than he’d intended, and now that it was time to talk, he wished he’d driven slower.

  “Take that.” Even from the doorway, Wyatt could hear Tyler as he blasted monsters on the television screen. Wyatt stood watching him. This was one of the hardest moments in his life. Even worse than calling his siblings when Mom had passed away.

  Tyler had barreled into his life, and somehow stolen a place in his heart. He took a deep breath and moved into the room. “Hey, I need to talk with you, buddy.”

  Wyatt settled on the couch, and Tyler looked up with a smile from where he sat on the floor. He’d come so far from the sad, sullen boy Wyatt had first brought home.

  “Yeah?” Tyler climbed up on the edge of the couch, his feet dangling several inches above the rug.

  “I—I got a call. About your dad.”

  Wyatt watched, amazed, as Tyler deflated and morphed back into the little boy he’d first met. The one torn between defending the mother who’d abandoned him and yearning for the father he’d never met. In that instant, Wyatt saw the strong resemblance to DJ as the light faded from the boy’s eyes.

  “Is he coming home soon?”

  “I...don’t know.” Wyatt wasn’t sure if Tyler was disappointed or relieved. “He’s hurt pretty bad. There was an explosion.” How did you tell an eight-year-old that his dad could die?

  “A big explosion?” A kid’s innocent fascination covered Tyler’s face.

  “I don’t know. Probably.” The brief report he’d gotten from DJ’s commanding officer hadn’t been that detailed.

  “When can I see him?”

  “He’s still in the hospital in Germany.”

  “But when he gets here, I get to see him, right?”

  Wyatt wouldn’t be the one standing in Tyler’s way, but he wasn’t so sure about anyone or anything else. Like hospital policies. “They don’t always let kids into hospitals.”

  “But I went there when I hurt my hand.”

  “That was different. It was the emergency room and you were the one they were taking care of.” Wyatt’s head started to hurt.

  “That’s not fair.” Tyler shot to his feet. “He’s my dad.”

  “And he’s my brother, kiddo. I know how you feel—”

  “No, you don’t.” Tyler’s voice rose an octave. “Why do grown-ups always say that?”

  “Watch your attitude,” Wyatt automatically corrected him.

  “I don’t have to. You’re not my dad.” Tyler ran from the room, his tennis shoes slamming against the wooden stairs. The bedroom door at the top slammed shut. Wyatt sat stunned, lost. He cursed.

  He vaguely wondered if Tyler was nervous about meeting DJ. He shook his head. They’d already gone over that.

  He was in over his head and sinking fast.

  Feeling as if he were a hundred years old, Wyatt climbed the stairs. He swallowed the dryness in his throat when he reached the top and tapped on the bedroom door. “Tyler.” No answer. No sounds at all.

  None of the bedroom doors in the old house locked, yet Wyatt hesitated to open the door. “Tyler?” Before he could give in to his own uncertainties, he turned the knob and shoved the door open.

  The room was empty. The window wide-open.

  Wyatt cursed. The last thing he needed was to have to hunt for the kid. He frowned and went over to the window. The old cottonwood bumped up against the house here. Wyatt had forgotten about that. A memory came out of nowhere. DJ used to sneak out this way, that one and only summer he’d come out and worked for Granddad. They’d all learned real quick that DJ was not the ranching type.

  A movement in the distance caught Wyatt’s eye. Tyler was heading to the barn, and Wyatt breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe Dancer was the best medicine.

  Wyatt closed the window and turned around to leave. At the door, his brain caught up with his vision. He spun back around. The chair in the corner was empty. Panic ate through him. He rushed to the dresser and yanked open the drawers—and breathed a heavy sigh of relief. All Tyler’s clothes were neatly folded and put away.

  The card and the plastic animals he’d shown Emily in court were carefully tucked in the corner.

  Wyatt closed his eyes and whispered a soft prayer of thanks. Looked like Tyler was planning to stay after all. Somehow, that helped. For now.

  * * *

  EVERY TIME THE office phone rang, the palms of Emily’s hands grew damp, both dreading and hoping that it was Wyatt. But it never was. She wasn’t ready to explain things to him, anyway. With a deep breath she picked up the receiver. “Family Court,” she answered.

  “Judge Ivers?”

  She recognized Tyler’s voice immediately. The wobble of uncertainty in it, however, she didn’t. “Tyler? What’s wrong?”

  He hiccuped. “My dad. He got hurt.”

  “Oh, dear.” What should she ask? What did Tyler even know? “I’m sorry, sweetie. How can I help?”

  “Are you comin’ with us?”

  “Uh...where are you going?”

  “Santonio.”

  Ah, Brooke Army Medical Center. “San Antonio?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  Emily frowned. She’d never lived in the military world, but she’d seen plenty of news stories about the hospital that worked with some of the most severe war injuries. Amputations. Burns.

  “Is your uncle there?” She focused on the situation at hand. Her heart beat a mile a minute at the idea of hearing Wyatt’s voice.

  “No. He’s down at the barn. The vet’s checking Dancer.” Talking about the horse seemed to perk Tyler up.

  “How’s he doing?” She was talking about the horse...or so she told herself.

  “Better. They let him out in the pasture a little while yesterday.”

  That sounded good. “Can you have Wy—your uncle call me?” She wanted to know what was going on. This wasn’t her case anymore, since Warren had agreed to take it in the future, but this could change everything. If DJ was back and wanted custody and questioned her earlier impartiality, Warren’s warnings would become all too real.

  “Does that mean you’re coming?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “But you have to.” Tyler’s voice sounded near panic.

  “Okay, calm down,” she soothed. “Why do you think I should go?”

  “To make sure my dad’s okay to be a dad.”

  Emily closed her eyes and pictured Tyler’s face. Poor kid. He’d had so much change lately. Too much. “I’ll make you a deal. I’ll talk to your uncle and we’ll figure out a plan. It will all be okay.”

  The line went silent, but she knew he was still there. “Tyler? Do you have another question?”

  “Yea
h.”

  She waited a beat before nudging him. “What is it?”

  A long pause followed, then he whispered, “What if he—my dad—doesn’t like me?”

  “Oh, Tyler. How could he not like you?” Emily wouldn’t make empty promises. She ached to reassure him, but this time she couldn’t. She didn’t know DJ.

  But she knew her job. And this go around, Tyler would be her only consideration.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  DJ HAWKINS DRIFTED in and out of consciousness. Strange and familiar voices penetrated the fog. He recognized his brother’s voice. Wyatt. A voice he’d heard all his life, bossing him, berating him and too often cussing him. Must be back in the States. He tried to smile but hadn’t a clue if his lips responded. He felt completely disconnected from his body.

  Except for the pain. That part even the fog couldn’t eliminate. His back and legs felt like they were on fire. Images of flames. Loud explosions. Searing pain rushed back. Was it real? Part of him knew it was.

  A child’s voice he didn’t recognize broke through everything. Inquisitive and soft. High pitched. It wasn’t any of his siblings, but strangely enough it belonged.

  He struggled to open his eyes, fighting the weights holding them closed. He ached to see light again. Suddenly, panic swept over him. What if it wasn’t his eyelids that he was staring at the back of? What if the flames had stolen his eyesight? Struggling, he strained.

  Slowly, his eyelids moved. White light, stabbing agony, poured into his eyes. He slammed them closed. Answered that question. Enough of that.

  Okay, how much of the pain in his legs was real? Did he want to try that trick again? Sure, what the hell. He nearly cried aloud at that bit of evidence. Okay, no more opening his eyes and no more moving his legs.

  “He moved!” The boy’s voice cut like glass through his brain. DJ didn’t think that had a thing to do with his injuries.

  “Shh, Tyler,” Wyatt commanded, as usual.

  Tyler! DJ’s voice screamed in his mind. His son. Dear God. The son Tammie had never told him about. Open eyes, damn it. Open. His eyelids, remembering the recent shattering pain, refused to cooperate. Please, DJ pleaded to whoever or whatever might be listening. Let me see. Let me look at my son. Please.