Promises to Keep

by Kathryn Shay

  She nodded.

  “What will you do now?” he’d asked.

  “Take a bath and go to bed.”

  “All right...”

  But the images of her in the bath had haunted him on the short drive to his house. Thankfully, Ludzecky had gone to visit his family. So Joe had been alone. He’d allowed himself a manhattan and tried to work. But he was outlining a plan for her safety, and it was hard not to think about her while he did that. Did she use bubble bath? What would it smell like on her skin? What would she feel like warm and wet?

  Trying to distract himself from repeating last night’s musings, he picked up a picture of Lawrence. Her husband had been good-looking. Joe wondered what kind of sex life they’d had. Then he cursed a blue streak that he’d allowed that thought to surface.

  “Joe? What’s wrong?”

  His back to her, he shook his head and set the picture down with a thump. His speculation was totally inappropriate. “Nothing,” he said curtly.

  “I brought some coffee.”

  “Fine.”

  He turned and faced her. She’d left her hair down after her yoga class, and it swirled in blond waves around her shoulders, skimming the cashmere, which looked almost as soft as her skin. Setting mugs on a table, she sat and smiled up at him.

  He didn’t smile back.

  “Have I done something to upset you?”

  “Of course not. You’re handling this like a pro.” He crossed to her and sat, weary himself. She handed him a mug. Their fingers touched, jarring him. “We might as well finish this part.”

  “You’re concerned about my safety.” She was smart, he’d give her that, and gutsy. He was glad she didn’t avoid the facts.

  “And Josh’s.”

  Her gaze hardened. He’d expected a weepy reaction. “I had his car last night.”

  “Yes.”

  “So we don’t know if the vandalism was meant for me or for him.” She added hesitantly, “Just like the hit list.”

  “Right.”

  She stared at him with wide, frightened eyes.

  “Suzanna, some procedures really have to be put in place to ensure Josh’s safety along with yours.”

  “How can we do that? Josh doesn’t know who you are.”

  “No, but I can still talk to him about safety. Tell him that I was with you when you found the car was vandalized. Talk to him about kids having grudges, taking them out on the principal and her family. And what that means to him.”

  “It sounds like a plan.” She ran a restless hand through her hair, mussing it.

  “I was going to ask you to talk to him anyway.”

  “So you said. About what?”

  “Sex.”

  The mug slipped in his hands, but he caught it. “Excuse me?”

  She chuckled. “My son’s almost eighteen. He’s got a steady girlfriend. I’m not naive, Joe. I know about young men’s needs.”

  He didn’t want to discuss this with her. Did she know about grown men’s needs, too? “It’s important to recognize what you’re dealing with,” he said neutrally.

  She sipped her coffee. “He can’t talk to me about it. I’ve tried to get him to open up. I think things are getting heavy with him and Heather. He needs a man to talk to. You’re starting the Boys’ Concerns group. I was hoping it would come up there.”

  “I’ll make sure it does. Try to segue into a private meeting with him.”

  “Thanks. I appreciate it.”

  Without censoring his reaction, he reached over and grasped her hand. It was ice cold. Because of that, he told himself, he held it fully in his. “You know, Mom, guys have been going through puberty since time began. Josh will weather it.”

  “Yes, but will I?”

  “It’s hard to do everything alone.”

  “He would have talked to Lawrence.”

  Joe didn’t want to hear this, either. “Were they close?”

  “Very. I always thought...I didn’t think I’d be left to deal with this issue myself.” She shook herself out of the mood. “Anyway, I need help. With my son, just like with this whole school thing, I guess.”

  Your cue to let her hand go, Stonehouse. He squeezed her hand once, then released it. Reaching into his briefcase, he picked up the tablet again. Called up another page.

  “You’re pretty good at lists.”

  He didn’t tell her he’d made this one at 2 A.M. when he couldn’t stop thinking about her. “Last night was no accident.”

  “I know. I’ll be more careful.”

  “You need to do more.”

  She took the list, scanned it.

  “All right, I’m making sure the alarm is on.” She read further. “Josh shouldn’t stay overnight anywhere? That’s going to be a tough one to explain.”

  “We’ll go at it from the ‘your mother’s a principal’ angle.”

  She read on. “Not working late alone. This is going to take up a lot of your time, Joe. I have night meetings. Commitments.”

  “That’s why I’m here.”

  “Don’t you have any personal time when you’re undercover?”

  “No. It isn’t a big deal. I take weeks, sometimes whole months, off in between assignments.”

  “No special woman to complain about that?”

  He watched her carefully for the origin of the comment. He didn’t see it. “No. As I said, this is an isolated life. Thankless, too, in many ways. It’s harder on Ludzecky. He went to New York to visit his family last night.”

  She nodded.

  “What about the last item on the list?”

  She scanned it. Her eyes widened. “Do you really think that’s necessary?”

  “It would help.”

  “Josh has a black belt in karate. I won’t be able to convince him to take the self-defense lessons with me.” She blew out a breath. “And where will I find time for lessons?”

  “You can replace your yoga class with them.”

  “I could. It’s just that yoga centers me. Calms me. Self-defense lessons will stir me up.”

  Don’t say it. “I could give you the instruction.”

  “Really?” She grinned, looked him up and down. “You’re so big, you could crush me.”

  Oh, Lord.

  “I’d be careful with you, Suzanna.”

  Her color heightened. Her lips parted. But she held his gaze. Finally she said, “I imagine you would.”

  Chapter Nine

  The Ludzecky household was the noisiest place Luke had ever been. As a kid, it drove him wild—the phone constantly ringing, a stereo blaring from each of the four bedrooms, and the girls chattering from dawn till dusk. His seven sisters could reach a decibel level that would surpass Chinese torture in the right circumstances. Often, he escaped to the solace of his bedroom, only to have them prance in on him, needing advice, some money, or even to borrow his shirts. The worst part was how they insisted on interfering in his love life; they’d put him in a million embarrassing positions. Still, he loved the girls, five of whom came home today at Donuta Ludzecky’s command.

  Caterina, the one who was closest to him and nearest his age, mimicked his mother’s voice as she plopped down next to him at the scarred kitchen table in their cozy home in Queens. Her eyes, the exact hazel color of all eight of them, sparkled with mischief. “‘You’ll come home to see your brother unless you’re sick or having a baby,’ she told us all.”

  Luke smiled at the impersonation. “Dobrze, Cat. You’re improving.”

  Actually, one of them was having a baby. Ana, three years younger than Luke, was about to give birth, so she’d been excused. Her impending motherhood made Luke feel like he was missing something in his life. Sofia had gone on a youth group conference, so she was off the hook, too.

  Luke held court with the other five girls while they waited for an early supper before he went back to Fairholm. “Can it, ladies. You know you love havin’ me here.”

  “Yep,” the youngest, Elizabeita, put in. She was sixteen, s
till in high school, and brighter than a Rhodes Scholar, which she might someday be. “It’s like the pope’s visiting whenever Lukasz breezes into town.”

  “Prosze!” he begged, and threw a napkin at her. She giggled adoringly.

  From behind, brilliant Magdalena slid her arms around his neck, then placed a beer in front of him. “You know we love you, buddy.”

  Unbidden, another woman who’d recently called him that came to mind. How are you, buddy? Kelsey Cunningham had asked the day he was suspended for keeping her away from Webster’s fists. Her dark eyes had been troubled, and her hand had stayed on his arm a long time.

  “Hey, Lukasz, where’d you go?” Magdalena asked.

  “Nowhere, Mags.” He grabbed her hand and kissed it. “It’s good to see you.”

  Donuta bustled into the kitchen, carrying golabki, kielbasa, and his favorite, pierogi. The enticing aromas of his mother’s specialties warmed him. Setting the food on the table, she stopped and took Luke’s face in her hands. “My bopchee,” she said, kissing him on the lips. “Brakuje mi Ciebie.”

  “I miss you, too, Matka.”

  Paulina and Antonia entered the room together, carrying the rest of the traditional Polish dishes. Identical twins, they’d married their high school sweethearts when they graduated and worked in the family business. The girls bounced onto chairs after he and his mother sat; everybody looked to Luke. As the only man in the family, he led the prayer. “Dear God, thank you for bringing us together. Thank you for this wonderful food and for the gift of life.”

  Donuta put in, “And keep Lukasz safe.”

  His sisters stilled. They knew he worked undercover for the Secret Service, but nothing specific about his jobs. Though they didn’t belabor it, the recognition that their brother and son was often in danger sat heavily on his whole family. Because of it, Luke religiously called home every Monday night to let them know he was all right. He knew they waited for the reassurance.

  Briefly he wondered how Stonehouse had done this job all these years. Must be he didn’t have a family who worried about him. God, Luke hoped he didn’t end up alone, like Joe.

  “So,” Paulie said in her usual glib manner, trying to defuse the moment, “how’s the world of espionage?”

  “You know your brother can’t talk about that.” Donuta patted his arm. “We’re just grateful you could squeeze in a visit.”

  Which made Luke feel bad that he didn’t come home often enough. Not that he could. Even getting away now was a risk, but he was too close—three hours away—to miss the opportunity. Stonehouse agreed he could go. “I’ll try to get home more, Matka.” He smiled at the women who were responsible for his love, respect, and awe of the female sex.

  “Can you at least tell us where you’re working?” Elizabeita asked. “We can’t tell from those spiffy clothes you’re wearing.” He’d dressed up for his visit in navy slacks and a pressed pin-striped shirt. Sometimes he missed his real clothes; he wondered if Kelsey would like them.

  “No, Lizzie, I can’t tell you.”

  “Is it exciting?”

  “Yeah, the work’s interesting this time.”

  “Any new women on the horizon?” This from Caterina. He swore she could read his mind sometimes.

  Which was why he tried to blank it of dark eyes and wispy bangs falling into them. Luke, you have so much potential...let me help you...I could tutor you.

  “There is somebody.” This from Nia.

  “There’s women where I’m working.” He grinned. “They’re gorgeous. And smart. Just like you, baby.”

  “Then they won’t want anything to do with you,” Elizabeita said haughtily.

  “Quiet, Einstein,” Luke teased. “Boys don’t like girls who show off their IQ.”

  “Yeah, Lukasz, that’s always been your problem.” Caterina again. “The women who fall at your feet can’t match your mind.”

  I’ll bet you got straight A’s in everything. Luke couldn’t believe no one had scooped Kelsey up yet. The face of Mike Wolfe materialized before him. I’ll try to distract Ms. C. a little longer so you can beat her to class. Luke had watched the man’s hand slide to the feminine slope of her back, caress it gently. His own hands had fisted.

  “Come on, Lukasz, share!”

  “I’m so not gonna do that. You’ll try to interfere like you always do. But I’ll tell you a story about Barak Obama’s daughters.”

  Tales of the exploits of the uniforms had always intrigued the girls. He spent a lot of time entertaining them with allowable details. As they ate, his sisters got owl-eyed at yet another story about the past president of the United States and forgot all about the women at his school.

  Luke didn’t forget as easily.

  o0o

  Ben’s fingers were nimble on the strings as he played one of his original songs. His hair was tinted green and he had it tied in about a dozen tiny pony tails on top of his head. He wore a thick green sweatshirt with symbols of the pagan holidays. When Luke had asked him about it, Ben said Morgan gave it to him for Yule, the pagan holiday at Christmas.

  The words that left Ben’s mouth were heartbreaking, even to a macho guy like Luke.

  You’re a Super Freak

  screaming at 3 A.M.

  And you’re a Super Freak

  just praying for the end.

  Stoically, he let Ben finish the song as he sank back against his headboard in the upstairs bedroom of the house Joe had rented. Luke chose his words carefully. “Pretty heavy stuff, Franzi.”

  Ben shrugged, then frowned. “The English teachers at school say people use poetry to vent their saddest feelings. Songs, too.”

  “Yeah, I do that.” Picking up his Gibson, Luke strummed absently.

  Ben fiddled with his own guitar. “You won’t tell anybody about the lyrics, will you?”

  “Like who?”

  “Your uncle, for one. All I need is him on my ass.”

  “On your ass?”

  “For suicidal feelings. My mom would flip if she was contacted by the school about her son’s depression.”

  “What’s your mom like?”

  “She’s okay. She’s a teacher and always hovering over me like I’m one of her little kids.” He smiled. “I mostly like her doing that, but it’s suffocating sometimes.”

  “What does she think of your Wiccan stuff?”

  Ben’s head snapped up. “Why?”

  “Hey, no offense. I’m just interested.”

  The boy settled down. “She lets me do it; she even takes an interest. Once when we were in the basement, doing a circle—”

  “What’s that?”

  Ben explained how Wiccans believed in sectioning out a sacred space when they prayed or used magic. In a way, it was a mobile church. “Anyways, my mother came to the basement while we were praying and I yelled, ‘Don’t step in the circle.’ She didn’t wig out like most parents would have. She smiled, asked me to explain what we were doing, and left us alone.”

  “Nice lady.”

  “She’s cool, even if she does make me go to church with her.” He looked at Luke. “What’s your mom like?”

  Luke gave his worst bad boy scowl. “My mother can’t handle me, that’s why I’m here. With my shrink uncle.” Luke rolled his eyes. “Don’t worry about me tellin’ him anything. Hell, we hardly ever talk. I can’t stand him.” He added, “Kids at school say he’s a good counselor, though.”

  “Why aren’t you living with your father instead of him?”

  “My pa’s dead.”

  Ben stared off into space. “My dad’s dead, too.”

  Luke hummed a bit, giving Ben the opportunity to talk. When he didn’t, Luke asked, “Was he as cool as your mom?”

  “Yeah, he was a college teacher. Really with it. About guy things, you know.” Luke could hear the emotion clog the boy’s throat. Damn, Luke was no psychologist. He felt more equipped to deal with kids who said they wanted to kill their teachers than with those who had thoughts of killing themse
lves. At a loss, he decided to act like a friend. “I’m sorry.”

  Again, Ben shrugged.

  “What did he die from?”

  “A quick and dirty case of pneumonia.” Ben drew in a breath. “He was gone in a week. Can we talk about something else?”

  “Okay.”

  Luke thought about Ben’s loss. “Can I ask you somethin’?”

  “I guess.”

  “Were you friends with that kid, Zach, who killed himself?”

  Dark eyes narrowed and filled with pain again. Ben nodded.

  “Was he a nice guy?”

  “Yeah. Got along with everybody. Even jerks like Duchamp and that scumbag Webster. That’s why people were surprised when he offed himself.”

  “Were you?”

  Ben shook his head, looked away, busied himself with a few chords. For a while, they picked at some songs together, then Ben glanced at the clock. “I gotta bounce by nine. I don’t have my night driver’s license.”

  “Why didn’t you say something? I could’ve picked you up.”

  “I like my own wheels. Makes me feel I’m in control.”

  “Aren’t you? In control.”

  “Nobody’s in control of their life, Ludzecky; it’s all an illusion.” He grinned. “Hey, sounds like a song.” His voice was mellow as he sang, “It’s all an illusion, the life we lead.”

  Luke listened to the pain behind the words as well as the sad melody. It wasn’t a good idea to jump to conclusions, but Luke knew he had to talk to his uncle about the young boy before him.

  Ben was packing up when he said to Luke, “I got tickets to see The Berries tomorrow night.”

  Luke whistled. “The band’s awesome. And the lead singer’s a hottie.”

  “Morgan can’t go. She won’t be back from Albany in time.”

  “I’d like to see them.”

  The broad hint made Ben smile. “Okay.” They headed downstairs. “You can drive, ’cuz it’ll get over late.”

  At the front door, Ben turned to Luke. “You won’t talk to your uncle about me, right?”

  “I promised I wouldn’t.” He hoped he sounded offended. Ben gave him a mysterious smile. “Good, ’cuz I wouldn’t wanna have to kill you.”