“He went to the res to visit his gramps. Well, technically, his great gramps. Kiyaya’s sick, and he went to check on him.”
“Okay.”
Flirt’s lips twitched. “Thought you might want to know why you haven’t seen him around.”
I got into the vehicle and looked back at Flirt. “It isn’t any of my business where Emery goes.”
Flirt snorted, then smirked. “I’ll let you continue to pretend you weren’t looking for him. But, Doc, I can guarantee when he gets back in town, he’ll be looking for you.” He closed the door and walked back to his bike.
I looked to the front at Devil and Bailey. “That almost sounded like a threat. What did he mean, Emery will be looking for me?”
Devil laughed, and Bailey smacked his shoulder. “Oh, he’s probably talked to Coast, that’s all and was just letting you know where he is. Umm...Coast looking for you...not sure what he meant by that.”
Devil snorted as he pulled out of the parking spot, and Bailey glared at him. I looked over at Neely, who was in her car seat, and she shrugged and smiled at me. I felt at that minute everyone was privy to something I had no clue about. Even a four-year-old little girl.
Devil dropped Bailey and I off in front of the office, then drove away.
“Four more hours and we’re done for the day. For your sake, I hope no one goes into labor tonight, and you can get some sleep,” Bailey said as I tried the door and it opened, which meant Amelia had beaten us back from lunch.
“You and me both. I plan to go home, soak in the bathtub, then fall into bed until the clock alarm wakes me in the morning,” I said as we reached the receptionist area that already had a few patients sitting in it.
“Right on time, ladies,” Amelia said and handed charts over the counter to Bailey.
“I’ll get the rooms set up,” she said as she flipped through the charters.
“Sounds good. I’ll be ready in five. Let me hang my jacket and hit the restroom, and then we’ll get these next four hours knocked out,” I said and headed to my office.
The next hours flew by and without any ‘in labor’ interruptions. I even got to enjoy the bubble bath when I got home. The solid night’s sleep was a different matter.
At four in the morning the phone rang, it seemed another one of my patient’s baby didn’t get the memo that I needed sleep. I was up, dressed, and on my way to the hospital in under twenty.
Babies waited for no one.
Chapter Five
Coast
“I’m going to go to the store today. Anything you need?” I asked as I washed the skillet.
It had been four days since I’d taken Kiyaya to the clinic, and the improvement was noticeable, but it would be weeks before the bronchitis cleared. It also had been four days of constant arguments getting the man to take the antibiotics and using the inhaler that was prescribed. The doctor informed Kiyaya that if he hadn’t come into the clinic, he would have more than likely been in the hospital by month’s end with pneumonia. The bacterial infection was contained to the bronchial tubes but could have easily moved into his lungs, which would have hampered his breathing even more.
“Licorice, the red kind,” he answered from the table where he sat finishing the omelet and toast I’d made.
“Didn’t we buy like two packages of that stuff at the drugstore?” My nose crinkled with thought of how nasty that stuff was.
“It’s black licorice. I like the red, too.”
It didn’t escape me that my great grandfather was more than surly. I’d chalk it up to not feeling well, but he was on the mend. Not that the man hadn’t acted like a five-year-old over taking his medicine, it was that his attitude had gotten worse when I mentioned last night that I was planning to head home the next day or so.
“If you want to go with me to the store, you’ll need to bundle up. It’s windy as hell outside.” I walked to the table, sat, and picked up my coffee.
“I don’t need you to tell me the weather. I don’t need you to go to the store for me. Or chop wood or work on my truck. You can go home today,” Kiyaya said, then pushed his chair back and grabbed his empty plate and silverware off the table.
I didn’t respond right away to his outburst. I leisurely took a drink of coffee and watched as he stood at the sink, washing his dishes.
“You already tired of me being around, xwísaat, old man?”
“You treat me like a miyánash, child.”
I snorted, and he turned and glared at me. “Maybe because you have been acting like one,” I said and cocked an eyebrow and stared back at him.
“It has been good having you here,” he answered and seemed embarrassed about admitting it.
I let the fact he put up no argument about acting like a child go and replied, “I’ve enjoyed being here.” And I honestly had. I’d already planned to visit him more often, and maybe if I pushed enough, I’d get him off the res to visit me.
“Maybe tonight I let you win at checkers,” he said and smiled.
I laughed, stood, then carried my coffee cup to the sink. I placed a hand on his shoulder and gave a small squeeze, then said, “Who says I haven’t been letting you win?”
“Ha! You have always been a terrible player.” He chuckled and patted my hand that still rested on his shoulder.
“And I see you still like to gloat. You even did it when I was just a kid, too. So much for being an elder and helping to frame young minds. You could have let me win one game.”
“What would that have taught you?”
“That my great grandfather cared enough to throw a game for me.”
“I cared enough not to throw a game for you. Life is hard. It’s harder when prejudices exist. You don’t sit around and wait for someone to give you something, or you’ll have nothing. If you work and get things on your own, they have more value to you.”
“I’m talking one game of checkers. One hand of cards. Not prejudices and life. Christ knows I’ve dealt with enough of them—it only fueled me to work harder.”
“And you felt better because you achieved the things on your own, Emery.”
I blew out a breath. “Tell me we did not have this...” I waved my hand around “...life altering conversation...because I did shit around here for you. Seriously?” I ran my hand down my face, then looked back at Kiyaya. His expression told me I was right.
“I like doing for myself. Just as you do.”
“You might as well get over it. I’ll be back in a few weeks with a couple of my brothers to fix the roof and replace the damn windows.”
“I don’t need you to fix those things for me.”
“Goddammit, you got no business on a roof, and you sure as shit can’t yank those old ass windows out by yourself. Sue me for loving you enough to not want it to rain on your head inside your house. Or for you to freeze to death because the windows can’t keep the cold from entering.”
Kiyaya stared at me and said, “Átawit, love, you, Emery.” Then he started walking away. “Let me get my coat, and I’ll go to the store with you. If I don’t, you will buy the wrong stuff.”
“You crusty old Indian,” I said to his back as he headed into his bedroom.
“Pain in the ass half breed,” he yelled over his shoulder.
I snorted. “You know that shit isn’t politically correct, right? If anyone else called me that, I kicked their ass,” I said and grabbed my jacket off the back of the chair and pulled it on.
“Eh, I’m too old to care what others think. And like the checkers, you’ll not win against me,” he answered as he walked back in the room with his coat on.
Shaking my head and chuckling, I went to the door and opened it. “Come on. Let’s get the shopping done and get back so we can play more checkers, I’m feeling lucky today.”
“Eh, you gonna need more than luck,” Kiyaya said as he passed by me and headed for his truck.
I got in the driver’s side and started the truck, then pulled out onto the road. I glanced over at
Kiyaya, who was looking out the window. I focused back on the road and thought about how unhappy I was when I received Suni’s call. It came at an inconvenient time because I was ready to make my move with Mac. But after spending the time with Kiyaya, minus the arguments, I was glad I’d made the trip. There’d be plenty of time to spend with Mac, which I planned to start as soon as I pulled back into town tomorrow. She and I had danced around each other long enough.
“I don’t need all that food,” Kiyaya said as I placed the bags in the back of the pickup.
“Four bags is not a lot of food. It’s mostly can soups and easy things for you to heat up while you are recuperating. You’re just mad because I refused to let you pay.”
“I have money.”
I counted to ten in my head because I knew it was hard for him to accept help. But for fuck’s sake, we’re family. “I know that. I also know you are on a fixed income. So this month you have a little extra left to spend on yourself.”
“I don’t want you wasting all your money on me. You need to save so you can support a family one day.”
“If I couldn’t afford to do it, I wouldn’t. I’ve got enough money. Besides, maybe I’ll find me a sugar momma.” I grinned, thinking what Mackenzie would say if she heard me say that.
“Hmm...you better start looking then. You’re not getting any younger, áswan, boy.”
“I might surprise you and bring a woman with me when I come back,” I said jokingly, but the thought stuck. I wondered what it would take to get Mac to come with me and what she would think if she did?
“You know we haven’t stolen women for over a hundred and seventy-five years,” Kiyaya replied, then laughed as he opened the passenger side door.
“I’m hurt you think I’d have to steal a woman. For all you know, I could have ten hidden away,” I said after I opened the other door.
“Why they hidden? Are they ugly?”
“I can’t win with you. Get in the truck and let’s go home,” I said as I prepared to get into the vehicle. I stopped when I noticed the woman approaching on the sidewalk in front of us. “Ma’am!” She turned when I yelled.
“Yes.” She stopped walking.
“You’re the social worker who was at the clinic with the two boys?” I asked.
I saw the recognition on her face even before she answered, “Yes, I’m a caseworker with the ICWA, Indian Child Welfare Act. You sat beside us. What can I do for you?”
“How’s Tracker and Paxton adjusting?”
Her eyebrows scrunched together, and by the expression on her face, I was expecting to get the spill about not being able to talk about them. I totally understood privacy acts, but I didn’t want all the details about their case, which I didn’t need considering it wasn’t hard to figure out the circumstances that had the two boys going into the system after conversing with Tracker. I just wanted to know if the two of them were doing okay.
I was shocked when she looked around, then stepped off the sidewalk and moved closer.
“I shouldn’t be saying anything to you, but you did help that day. After talking with you, Tracker started cooperating instead of fighting me every step.”
“So he and Paxton are doing okay?”
“We’re having to wait for a foster family with room to take on two. Temporarily we’ve had to split the boys between two fosters until one becomes available. Neither boy is happy, but Paxton is doing somewhat better with the arrangement than Tracker.”
“So two more kids get lost in the system. What bullshit.”
“They’re not lost, Mr.?”
“Cortez.”
“Like I was saying, they aren’t lost, Mr. Cortez. We do the best we can to keep siblings together. The system isn’t without flaw, and sometimes circumstances place us in a bind. As soon as a foster family becomes available, Tracker and Paxton will be placed in the new home together.”
“So, in the meantime, two boys, brothers no less, who have relied on each other for their entire lives, are the ones expected to adjust and deal with another shitty situation thrown at them by adults. Adults responsible for their care and to protect them.”
“Mr. Cortez, the boys are placed with wonderful foster parents. They will be taken care of. I promise.”
“Miss, Mrs...”
“Mrs. Stone. Cassandra Stone.”
“Mrs. Stone, I’m not laying fault on you. When I said lost in the system, I didn’t mean physically. I meant mentally. At least in Tracker’s and Paxton’s case. I’m not naïve to think their circumstance is the first your agency has dealt with. But they are the first I’ve interacted with personally. If only for a few minutes. I’m astute, Mrs. Stone. I was trained to be by the military. I don’t have to read the file on Tracker and Paxton to know they are or were, I should say, the kids of a drug addict. There probably isn’t any father listed on their birth certificates because she never knew who they were. She kept the kids because she figured she could get more government assistance to keep her habit taken care of. She wasn’t interested in whether they ate, were clean, nothing to do with them mattered. So, two boys banded together to watch after each other. The majority left to Tracker because he’s the oldest. Hell, they probably had to take care of their mother when she binged. Now they are two mixed-race kids, expected to accept their fate when they don’t feel they fit in anywhere. And now, they don’t even have each other to lean on. I saw the defeat in Tracker’s eyes the other day. The longer he is separated from Paxton, the worse he will act out. And you and I both know what happens then. He will be rotated in and out of a dozen or more foster homes until he hits eighteen and kicked to the curb.”
“Where you a product of the foster care system, Mr. Cortez?”
“No, but I could have been if it wasn’t for my great grandfather...” I pointed to Kiyaya in the car listening to mine and Mrs. Stone’s conversation. “...and a dad who fought for me. Society isn’t kind when you are the minority. Sometimes it isn’t kind even when you are the majority. I’ll admit there were times I struggled balancing the two sides of me, but I had support and people around me who didn’t care about my mother being a doper, they didn’t care my skin was darker—they taught me it was a flaw in the other person if they couldn’t get past my ethnicity. I’ve dealt with what Tracker and Paxon will have to face, whether in foster care or after they age out. So please make sure they get reunited soon because they are going to need each other.”
“I’ll do everything in my power to make that happen, Mr. Cortez.”
“Great. And sorry for the rant. I guess the boys left an impression on me.”
Mrs. Stone smiled. “It happens. Have you ever thought of applying to be a foster parent, Mr. Cortez?”
I chuckled and looked down at the cut I wore, then back to Mrs. Stone. “I don’t think Washington would approve of turning kids over to a biker.”
“You never know until you apply.” She glanced at Kiyaya, then back at me. “It was good chatting with you, Mr. Cortez.”
“You, too. And again, sorry for going off on a rant.”
“That means you care, Mr. Cortez. Caring is what makes for a good foster.” Mrs. Stone turned and walked toward the entrance of the store.
When I got in the truck and closed the door, Kiyaya spoke, “She’s right.”
I started the truck and backed out of the spot. “About what?”
“You care.”
“That may be, but I think it takes more than caring to be a good foster.”
“Could be. But caring makes for a great human,” Kiyaya said, then turned and started looking out the side window.
The drive back to Kiyaya’s was quiet, and I thought of Tracker and Paxton. I hoped Mrs. Stone kept her word about getting the two reunited quickly. Crusher, Speed, Devil, Flirt, and Jag weren’t brothers by blood, they were better. I couldn’t imagine after growing up together what it would have been like to be separated. It’d been hard enough when we all went our separate ways for the military at eighteen. I had made
the decision by the time we got to the house that I would check in with Mrs. Stone about the boys when I came back in a few weeks.
After we arrived back home, the rest of the day was relaxing, and Kiyaya and I spent the evening playing checkers. I didn’t win a game.
Friday morning rolled around, and after breakfast and making sure Kiyaya understood when to take his antibiotics, I packed my things in my saddlebags.
“I’ll call and let you know when I’ll be back. It shouldn’t take too long to get the windows in. You have enough wood chopped and groceries for at least a week or two. And don’t throw the medicine in the trash after I leave.”
“You worry like an lmamá, old woman,” Kiyaya griped from the couch.
“I just don’t want to have to haul your old ass back to clinic.”
“I will take the medicine, Emery.”
“Okay. Well, I’m going to hit the road,” I said. “Love ya, xwísaat, old man.”
Kiyaya stood and walked to the door where I stood with my bags. “Átawit you, love you, áswan, boy.”
I dropped my bags and hugged the stubborn old man. “No wild parties while I’m gone.”
“Eh.”
After I released him, I picked up my saddlebags and went out the door. Once I’d fastened the saddlebags, I mounted my bike. I looked over my shoulder before I turned onto the main road and saw Kiyaya in the doorway watching, and I threw my hand up. When my bike hit the blacktop, I cut loose on the throttle and headed home.
On the ride, I had plenty of time to think of Mac. I hoped she was ready because I had miles of riding to plan my attack.
Chapter Six
Mac
“Two boys,” Luna said on repeat as we stood at the receptionist desk to schedule her next appointment.
“I explained monoamniotic twins to you,” I said and chuckled when Luna rolled her eyes.
Coast (Black Hawk MC Book 6) Page 5