About That Man

by Sherryl Woods

  “Any luck?”

  “The kid figures his chances are better with the bad guys than with us.”

  “He could be right.”

  Walker rubbed his eyes. “God, I hate this. Interrogating kids who ought to be riding their bikes or playing ball makes me sick.”

  “Did you show Rodney a picture of Keisha’s body lying in a pool of blood on the sidewalk?”

  Walker had debated with himself long and hard over that one. “He’s ten years old. He shouldn’t have to live with that image for the rest of his life. It’s hard enough for me.”

  “Maybe he needs to live with it,” Andy suggested. “Maybe all of them do. Maybe if they were forced to face the reality of what they’ve done, it would finally sink in that this isn’t some damned macho game, that innocent kids are dying. It’s not like TV where the actors get up, dust themselves off and go out for a beer. Maybe we should take the pictures of Keisha and all the others into the schools. Maybe that would shock some sense into these kids. They don’t value life, not the way you and I do. Damned if I know how to fix that.”

  Andy’s voice shook with frustration and anger. That was one of the things that Walker most admired in his boss. The man cared deeply.

  “I think the ones we need most to reach are already lost,” Walker said. “They’ve dropped out of school.”

  “Then we’ll start with the younger ones. Find some way to make them care about themselves and each other. Maybe those pictures would get through to them.”

  “And you know what the reaction from the parents will be. They’ll be in front of the school board hollering that their babies don’t need to see that kind of thing,” Walker said. “Doesn’t matter that it’s happening right in front of their eyes as it is.”

  Andy closed his eyes. “Yeah, I know you’re right. How do we stop it, though? What’s the magic way to put an end to this?”

  Walker sighed heavily. “I wish to God I knew.”

  They sat there, the silence between them filled with shared dismay. Finally, Andy said, “Let’s get out of here. I need some lunch, the greasier the better.”

  Walker’s expression brightened. “I know just the place.”

  They headed for a barbecue joint where the shredded pork was doused in spicy sauce and the fries were crisp and plentiful. Andy didn’t say much while they ate, but as soon as he’d finished, he studied Walker.

  “Okay, you want to tell me what went on down in Trinity Harbor?”

  “Not especially.”

  “You going back down there to see your nephew?”

  “I promised that I would.”

  When he thought of that promise, it wasn’t Frances Jackson’s face or even Daisy’s that he thought of. It was Tommy’s. The boy had stared up at him, fear and hope warring on his face, his voice trembling as he asked if his uncle was coming back. Walker had known right then that whatever his trepidation, whatever his misgivings, he had to go back.

  He just couldn’t bring himself to think beyond that.

  Daisy was beginning to settle into a comfortable routine with Tommy. They ate breakfast together and then she dropped him at his school on her way to the high school a few blocks away. In the afternoon, he walked over and met her in her classroom and they drove home together.

  Usually Tommy chattered nonstop about his day, about the progress he was making on his boat and his anticipation of his uncle’s next visit. It was clear that Walker had already become something of a hero to him.

  On Friday afternoon, though, Tommy was unusually quiet. Nothing Daisy asked could draw him out.

  “Did something happen at school today?”

  “Nah.”

  “Do you have a lot of homework for the weekend?”

  “Same old stuff.”

  “Is there anything special you’d like to do?”

  When he didn’t respond, she slanted a quick look at him and saw a tear spill down his cheek. Suddenly she understood.

  “Tommy, Walker will be back. He promised.”

  Tommy’s shattered face turned toward her. “But when? He hasn’t even called,” he said angrily. “Not once.”

  “I’m sure he’s very busy. He has a very difficult job.”

  “I suppose.”

  At that moment she could have cheerfully strangled Walker. She bore some of the blame. Why hadn’t they even discussed his calling Tommy, especially if Walker couldn’t make it down for the weekend?

  “You could call him,” she suggested.

  A glimmer of hope flared in Tommy’s eyes. “Really?” Then his expression fell. “It’s long distance. That costs a lot.”

  “Not that much—and even if it did, it wouldn’t matter. It’s worth it. I’ll call Frances and get the number the minute we get home.”

  “All right,” Tommy said excitedly.

  The minute they reached the house, Tommy dismissed her offer of cookies and milk. “Just call, okay?”

  Daisy went to the phone and dialed.

  “Tommy hasn’t heard from him all week?” Frances asked, immediately indignant. “I thought that man had more sense. Maybe I should call him.”

  “I’ll do it,” Daisy said. She had a few things she’d like to say to him herself, once Tommy had talked to him.

  As soon as she’d hung up, she handed Tommy the number and the phone. “You can call him. Just remember, I’d like to speak to him when you’re done.”

  Tommy was so eager, he punched the numbers too fast and made several mistakes, winding up with a wrong number. Disappointment spread across his face. “This number’s not right.”

  Daisy guessed what had happened. “Try again, but do it slowly.”

  Tommy punched in the numbers with exaggerated care. Suddenly his face brightened. “Uncle Walker, it’s me, Tommy.”

  Suddenly the room was filled with familiar, excited chatter. Daisy listened, a smile tugging at her lips from time to time. Her nerves tingled with anticipation as she waited for her own turn.

  “This won’t do,” she muttered under her breath. She was supposed to be working up to give Walker a piece of her mind, not getting all jittery like a schoolgirl waiting to talk to the boy she was crazy about.

  She looked up and realized Tommy was regarding her with a puzzled expression.

  “Did you say something, Daisy?”

  “Nothing, sweetie. You finish talking to your uncle.”

  A minute later he turned and handed her the phone. “He says he’s coming tomorrow,” he said happily. “He didn’t forget.”

  “Good,” Daisy said. “Now you get your cookies and milk and run along while I talk to him. You can call your friend Gary when I finish talking to your uncle. Maybe Gary would like to work on your boat with you.”

  “Can he stay for dinner, too?”

  “Of course.” She wanted to spend a little more time with the older boy, anyway. He was new in town, and she knew barely anything about him or his family.

  His good mood restored, Tommy pumped his fist in the air. “All right!”

  Daisy waited until Tommy had dashed from the kitchen before she spoke into the phone.

  “I was beginning to wonder if you’d forgotten I was on here,” Walker said.

  “Well, some of us were beginning to wonder if you’d forgotten all about your promise.”

  “Is that so?”

  His amused reaction wasn’t at all what she’d expected. “Boys depend on adults keeping their word,” she said, fully aware that she sounded exactly like some prissy old maid schoolteacher. Which, of course, was what she was. Except around Walker she didn’t feel so much like that anymore.

  “I know they do,” Walker said. “What about you? Were you depending on me, too?”

  “Well, of course I was.”

  “Is that so?”

  She heard that same disconcerting mirth in his voice again. “For Tommy’s sake,” she snapped.

  “Of course.”

  “You are a very maddening man, Walker Ames.”

&
nbsp; “If I’d been able to convince your friend Frances of that, maybe we wouldn’t be in this predicament.”

  Dismayed, Daisy sucked in her breath. “Are you saying the only reason you’re coming back here is because Frances pressed you to do it?”

  Walker sighed. “She wasn’t the only one,” he admitted. “I didn’t want to see that look of disappointment in Tommy’s eyes.”

  “That’s good, then. Apparently you do have a conscience.”

  “And if I didn’t, I suppose you’d try to reform me.”

  “I’m not sure that would be a good use of my time. I think I’d be better advised to see that Tommy has a loving home right here in Trinity Harbor.”

  “With you?”

  “Of course with me. Who else?”

  “Some would say he needs two parents.”

  “Well, certainly,” she said at once. “I’m not denying that. All children deserve two parents who love them and each other, but that’s not always possible. Tommy would certainly have male role models if he were with me. Bobby and Tucker would be here for him. So would my father, once he accepts that he’s not going to change my mind.”

  She suddenly realized she was trying to sell Walker on her qualifications to raise Tommy. “I’m sorry. I’m not trying to persuade you to stay away. I just want you to know that Tommy would have a good life with me, if that’s the way things work out.”

  “Daisy, I never doubted that your heart’s in the right place,” he said quietly. “And you could be right about what’s best for Tommy. It’s just too soon for me to know.” This time she was the one who sighed. “I know that.”

  “Isn’t this something we can talk about and decide together when the time comes?” Walker asked.

  She was surprised he was willing to take her opinion into account. “Absolutely,” she said at once.

  “I’ll see you in the morning, then.”

  “Yes,” she said. “In the morning.” As she hung up, she realized her own expression was very likely every bit as excited as Tommy’s had been.

  “You’re pitiful, Daisy Spencer. Totally pitiful.”

  That said, she still decided the house could use a thorough cleaning before Walker’s arrival on Saturday. As soon as they’d had dinner and Tommy’s too-reticent friend had left, she went to work with a vengeance. She would worry another day about Tommy’s friendship with the thirteen-year-old who gave off signals that made Daisy a bit uneasy.

  She reassured herself that any woman would want the house to sparkle when guests were anticipated. Dusted furniture and polished floors were nothing more than what was expected in a gracious home. It was just good manners, a demonstration of Southern hospitality. Dusting and polishing certainly weren’t the way to a man’s heart.

  Which was probably why she was up till midnight baking two pecan pies, a double batch of oatmeal raisin cookies and a chocolate cake with fudge frosting.

  King decided that this nonsense about his daughter taking in a stray boy had gone on long enough. He’d been up half the night thinking about it, worrying himself sick about what was to become of Daisy when this thing ended badly. If nobody else could talk sense into her, it was up to him. He’d obviously left the task to a bunch of incompetents. If a man wanted something done right, he had to do it himself.

  Besides, he was worn out from trying to explain her actions to all the busybodies in town. The men were as bad as the women, pestering him about this latest news that Daisy intended to let the boy’s uncle move in with her. That had been the last straw. King wasn’t going to hear of some damn Yankee ruining his girl’s reputation.

  He arrived on her doorstep at the crack of dawn on Saturday, figuring he could get a decent breakfast while he was at it. Daisy’s pancakes were a whole lot better than his housekeeper’s.

  Before he could knock, the sound of hammering drew his attention. He walked around the side of the house, then stopped stock-still at the sight of his daughter and a towheaded kid bent over what presumably had once been a boat. Now it was a disaster waiting to happen.

  “What the dickens are you doing, woman?” he demanded before he could stop himself. He knew better than to get her dander up first thing.

  Daisy’s head shot up. She stared at him in dismay. “Daddy, I wasn’t expecting you.”

  “No, I imagine not.” His gaze shifted to Tommy. “This is the boy?”

  She shot him a warning look. “Yes. This is Tommy Flanagan. Tommy, this grouchy old man is my father, King Spencer. Don’t pay a bit of attention to his temper. I’ve learned not to.”

  King frowned at her. “Is that anything to say to a child?”

  “It’s the truth. Haven’t you always been a big proponent of the truth?”

  King’s gaze narrowed. “What’s happened to you? You never used to be this contrary.”

  “I’ve grown up,” she suggested. “You don’t scare me anymore.”

  King regarded her indignantly. “When did I ever scare you?”

  She shrugged. “Okay, maybe that’s the wrong word. Maybe I just allowed you to intimidate me, just the way you try to do with everybody else in this town.”

  “I never did any such thing,” he retorted.

  Daisy chuckled. “Oh, for goodness’ sakes, Daddy, be honest. You know you did, and you loved every minute of it. Of course, your best friends are the ones who don’t let you get away with it.”

  He chuckled despite himself. “Okay, maybe I did. Somebody has to keep this town on track. The fool politicians certainly aren’t going to do it.”

  “And this family?” she suggested.

  “That, too,” he conceded. “What’s a man have to do to get some breakfast around here?”

  “Go in the kitchen and fix it,” she responded, then grinned at him. “Never mind. I was about to fix ours anyway. You can join us.”

  “What a gracious invitation,” he grumbled. “You sure it won’t be any trouble to set an extra place?”

  She came over and gave him a fierce hug then. “No trouble, but I think you’d better come inside with me while I cook.”

  King hadn’t intended to do any such thing. He’d planned to stay right here and talk to this boy she was making such a fuss over. He was about to voice his intentions, when she tucked her arm through his and started to the house.

  “You afraid of something?” he demanded, when she’d successfully steered him inside.

  “Just cautious,” she said. “I don’t want you hounding Tommy with a lot of questions that might make him feel unwelcome.”

  “Getting to know the boy is not hounding him, as you put it.”

  “I’d say that depends on how it’s done,” she said. “Let’s face it—you’re not known for your tact. How about a cup of coffee?”

  King resigned himself to staying put. He settled down at the kitchen table. “Don’t mind if I do.”

  She poured the coffee and set it in front of him.

  “Surprised you have a pot made,” he said. “You usually prefer tea.”

  “Walker likes coffee,” she said, then looked away hurriedly.

  “Walker? That’s the Yankee? That boy’s uncle?”

  “Exactly.”

  “So, you’re expecting him again?” he asked in a gloomy tone.

  “I am,” she said.

  She faced him with a defiant tilt to her chin that reminded King of her mama, God rest her soul. There were times when his heart still ached for Mary Margaret. Seeing signs of her in Daisy usually gave him comfort.

  “Where’s he staying this time?” he asked, hoping that the rumors had been wrong for once.

  “Here.”

  King lost his struggle with his temper. He thumped his fist on the table. “No way, young lady. You will not have that man living under your roof.”

  “Of course I will.”

  “You’ll ruin your reputation.”

  “I think maybe you’ve forgotten what century we’re living in.”

  “Dammit, a woman’s reputation is
a delicate thing. People will talk, and you know it.”

  “Let them. I’m sure you will be the first to set them straight.” She regarded him with a level look. “Won’t you?”

  “Well, of…of course I will,” he sputtered, indignant at the suggestion that he would ever do less than defend his daughter’s honor. “When is the boy’s uncle due?”

  “Sometime this morning. I’m sure you’ll be long gone by the time he gets here.”

  King regarded her stubbornly. “Wishful thinking,” he muttered.

  He was prepared to settle in for a long siege, if need be. He intended to meet this Walker Ames and have a thorough, man-to-man talk with him. It seemed to him they had a lot to discuss, beginning with a warning to Walker that if he did anything to hurt Daisy, he was going to have King Spencer to answer to. If his daughter thought he’d been intimidating everyone all these years, she hadn’t seen anything yet. King Spencer was going to personally ensure that he left this hotshot Yankee detective quaking in his boots.

  11

  Walker was in a somber mood when he finally got away from Washington on Saturday morning. He’d just been to Keisha’s funeral, which had been delayed for the arrival of her paternal grandparents, who’d insisted on driving up from Mississippi.

  “Don’t know why they want to come now,” Keisha’s mother had told him. “Didn’t want nothing to do with us when Keisha was alive. They thought I’d used that child to trap their precious son. As if that man would ever let himself be caught in a trap. He took off the day I told him I was having his baby. Hasn’t been seen since.”

  “Why did you tell them, then?” Walker had asked her.

  “Wasn’t me who called them. It was Devon’s no-good brother, Jermaine. He said his mama and daddy had a right to know. What right, I ask you? Ain’t none I can think of. They ain’t never even sent that child a birthday card.”

  “Maybe they regret that now,” Walker suggested.

  “What good is regrets gonna do my baby?”

  Walker hadn’t had an answer for that. But he had noticed the elderly couple at the funeral, the man’s shoulders stooped, the woman’s eyes red from crying. He had concluded that they would struggle for a long time with what their hardhearted attitude had cost them: the chance to know a beautiful grandchild.