Always in My Heart (14 page)

Chapter 14

“H
ey, Mom. Come see what Dad’s doing!”

Callie had been in a deep sleep, but her son’s excited voice woke her with the effectiveness of a bullhorn. She got off of the bed and slipped on the robe that was hanging behind the door.

She made her way to living room, and not seeing Nigel nor Kwame there, she then went to the kitchen. But they weren’t there, either.

Turning, her gaze wandered to the large window in the dining room area, where she finally saw Kwame on the deck. He was outside in his pajamas.

Callie made her way to the backyard deck, where she looked over the railing and saw Nigel with a large blue tarp on the ground.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“It’s been a hot summer so far,” Nigel said. “I figured Kwame needs a pool.”

“You bought him a pool?”

“Yep.”

“I can’t believe it. My own pool!” Kwame bounded down the steps onto the grass.

Callie followed her son, walking slowly down the steps. She surveyed the array of boxes on the ground and the pile of white steel poles. This was clearly one of those pools that people put up with metal frames. At least those looked sturdier than the giant blow-up ones.

From the shape of the tarp Nigel had spread out on the ground, Callie could tell that it was a rectangular pool, and one that appeared pretty large.

There was also a giant hose, and what must have been a filter. Even if Callie had had her morning cup of coffee, she knew she wouldn’t make one lick of sense of it.

“How much did this cost?” It had to be one of the more expensive ones.

“Did you see Kwame’s face? Priceless.”

“Okay, I understand,” she acknowledged. “Don’t you need some help to put this up?”

“Nope. I’ve got it.”

But an hour later, Nigel was still wrestling with getting the pool base just right, so Callie went back outside to offer him help. She smirked when he all but grunted that he could handle this himself.

He was one of those guys, the type who believed in doing everything on their own. Mr. Fix-It, Mr. Handyman—the kind who never liked to concede defeat.

“Are you at least ready for some breakfast? Say the word and I’ll start your pancakes.”

It took Nigel another hour—and two tall glasses of lemonade—before he was ready for a break. Callie served him up a full plate of pancakes, as well as turkey bacon—the kind of breakfast that would give him more energy to get back to the work of putting up the pool.

It took the better part of the day for Nigel to erect a low wood frame to level off the ground, before he installed the pool unit. Once he got to connecting the metal poles, things went more smoothly. Kwame helped as much as he could, and they were all relieved when the pool was ready to be filled with water.

It was certainly big enough to give all of them room to frolic around on a hot day and stay cool. And Kwame could not have looked more excited.

“Here,” Callie said, placing a plate of fried chicken, rice and green beans onto the patio table in front of Nigel. “You’ve put in a full day’s work. You really deserve a decent meal.”

“Thanks.” But Nigel didn’t touch the plate of food first, instead he drank half the contents of the tall glass of water.

“Let me get you something else,” Callie said. She disappeared inside, then returned with a bottle of beer. “Feel free to start eating. I’ll bring out Kwame’s and mine in a few minutes.”

“No, I’ll wait for you,” Nigel said. “You didn’t have to wait for me to eat, so the least I can do is wait for you to join me.”

“You did all the hard work.”

“We’ll eat as a family,” Nigel said.

Minutes later, Callie was heading back outside with plates of food for her and Kwame. “Kwame,” she called to her son, who was down by the pool, watching it fill with water. “Come on up for dinner.”

As Kwame started across the yard and toward the deck, Callie said to Nigel, “I appreciate you getting the pool. I appreciate you going to this trouble for Kwame.”

“He’s my son. I’m happy to do this.”

“All the same, I appreciate it.”

“This is gonna be awesome, Dad!” Kwame announced as he joined them at the table.

“Kwame, why don’t you say grace?” Callie suggested.

He folded his hands in front of his face and closed his eyes, and Callie did the same. “Dear God,” Kwame began, “thank You for this food we are about to eat. And thank You for giving me my dad. I’m happy to finally have both of my parents in my life. Amen.”

As Callie opened her eyes, she looked at Nigel. Found that he was staring at her.

And she thought she saw in his eyes an expression she’d seen years ago. One of affection.

But he turned quickly and smiled at Kwame. And the moment—whatever it was between them—was gone.

* * *

“Mommy, I don’t feel so good,” Kwame said. He was holding his stomach, and Callie wondered if he maybe had eaten something that didn’t agree with him.

“Your stomach?”

Kwame nodded.

Callie felt his head for any sign of fever, and noted that he was a little warm. “You might have a slight fever, actually,” she said.

“Come here, bud.” Nigel approached Kwame and put his arm around his shoulder. “Why don’t you let me take care of you for a moment, okay?”

This was Callie’s role, taking care of her sick son. It had been for nine years. And every part of her wanted to follow him and Nigel down the hallway to his bedroom, lie him down and then get a cold compress to put on his forehead. But she also knew that Nigel wanted to be a father in every sense of the word. Not just when things were good, but when things were bad. And if Kwame was sick, this constituted as the bad.

So as much as Callie would have loved to be the one to care for Kwame right now, she stood back and let Nigel take the lead role.

Several minutes later, Nigel appeared in the living room. Callie looked up from the sofa, asking, “How is he?”

“He’s okay. Resting. I’m going to get him a glass of water.”

Callie nodded, smiling softly. It was what she would do as well.

Nigel continued to the kitchen, and moments later was heading back into Kwame’s bedroom with a tall glass of ice water. Callie went into the kitchen and began to scrape the dinner dishes. A minute later, Nigel was back. Callie looked toward him, and her heart filled with emotion. Nigel was such an attractive man. And not simply because of his exterior good looks—that was obvious. But because of how great he was at being a father.

That was the kind of thing a woman couldn’t ignore.

He took a few steps toward her, and her breath caught in her throat. For a moment, she wondered if he was going to kiss her. Despite his talk about them moving beyond their sexual encounter.

“Is he sleeping?” Callie asked.

“Not yet, but he’s going down.”

Callie turned from the sink full of plates. “You really are a natural with him.”

“I’ve always wanted to be a dad.”

Nigel moved forward, holding her gaze, and Callie’s heart stopped. My God, he
was
going to kiss her?

She held her breath, pressed her fingers behind her back against the countertop as he stepped forward. Waited.

But Nigel walked past her and to the fridge, which he opened and then pulled out a cold bottle of beer.

Callie’s heart deflated. What was wrong with her? She didn’t want him to kiss her. So what if he had just put her son down in the way that the most caring of fathers would? She was happy to know that he was a good father to their son, filling that void and Kwame’s life.

But what about the void in your life?
was the thought that popped into her mind.

“Want a beer?” Nigel asked.

Callie shook her head as she slowly turned back to the sink. “No. I’m fine.”

She didn’t need beer to cloud her judgment. Her own emotions were helping her do that just fine.

“Listen,” Nigel began. “I have something to tell you. And now’s as good a time as any.”

Callie faced him. “It sounds serious.”

“It is.” Nigel paused. “I found the name of the man your mother was dating when she brought you to live with your aunt.”

Callie sucked in a sharp breath. “You did?”

Nigel nodded. “He was a pretty bad guy, from all I’ve been able to figure out. A list of charges as long as a football field. Doesn’t look like there was a day this guy wasn’t involved in doing something illegal.”

Callie’s heart was racing. The news that Nigel had found the name of her mother’s boyfriend was tampered by the reality that the guy had clearly been a thug. Why had her mother dated someone like that?

The ultimate truth at this point was that it didn’t matter. What was done was done. And Callie was more interested in getting at the truth. She needed answers. If those answers revealed something dark, so be it. As long as she learned the truth about her mother.

“I’ve also learned that your mother was a witness against him in a court case. Well,
supposed
to be a witness against him. Before she could testify against him she ran.”

So her mother had agreed to testify against this man. That changed things, because it meant that her mother had been compelled to do the right thing.

Suddenly, Callie frowned. What if the worst had happened to her mother because of this man? Had Miriam agreed to testify and paid the price for her decision?

How many people—career criminals especially—would try to take out a witness if that meant avoiding going to jail?

“What were the charges against this person?” Callie asked. “What was my mother going to testify to?”

“This guy’s name was Rodney Cook, and he was charged with fraud at the time. Like I said, he had a rap sheet a mile long. Forgery, false insurance claims, scamming senior citizens. Anything he could do to make a quick buck, he did. But he graduated from that to counterfeiting currency in a particularly elaborate scam. From what I’ve learned, he was involved with an organization that was distributing this counterfeit currency, and your mother was going to testify to what she knew about that.”

Callie digested the information. On the grand scale of criminal actions, fraud wasn’t that bad, was it? More importantly, she was thinking that someone who committed fraud wasn’t likely the type to commit murder.

“Is that the worst of it? Of his crimes, I mean.”

“At the time your mother was involved with him, yes. But in later years, Rodney’s crimes got worse. Some drug offenses, for example. Currently, he’s in jail for manslaughter.”

Nigel’s latest words made Callie’s heart leap into her throat. There went her theory on Rodney likely not being the type to commit a violent crime. Manslaughter…if he had committed manslaughter, he could easily have killed her mother.

“Is there no sign of my mother? You say she ran, and the only reason I believe she wasn’t killed—at least not initially—is because my aunt said she was in touch with her for at least a couple years after she left us in her care. Maybe she went into witness protection or something.”

“Typically witness protection requires that someone testify against someone, and your mother never got to do that. Besides, it’s not like this character was a major level criminal. Certainly he was a bad guy, but from my experience not the type that the government would be willing to relocate someone over. He wasn’t facing huge, huge time, but I can’t say for sure. I’ll have to do more of an investigation.”

“When did you learn all this?”

“Yesterday. I went in to the station to tie up some loose ends on a few cases. I figured I’d look into your mother’s case. See what I could find.”

“Where is he?” Callie asked.

“He’s in federal prison in California.”

Callie was silent. She was thinking. Nigel then said, “Don’t think about it. Don’t try doing anything silly like tracking this man down.”

“I won’t.” But Callie wasn’t certain that she wouldn’t. She knew there were ways to do it, and she wasn’t sure if she would be able to, but she might have to try if he held the only clues.

“I will continue looking on my end,” Nigel explained. “There’s got to be something somewhere about your mother and I’ll find out.”

“But is this normal?” Callie asked. “For someone to disappear off the grid completely?”

Nigel shook his head. “I’m not going to lie to you, Callie. It’s not. And I have to acknowledge that it’s not a good sign.”

Emotion suddenly overwhelmed her, and Callie placed a hand on her mouth, stifling a sob.

“Hey,” Nigel said. He rose and walked toward her.

“I’m sorry,” Callie said. “It’s just…”

“You don’t have to apologize,” Nigel said, and Callie met his gaze. “I know how hard it is, the not knowing. So to hear this news…I get it.”

Callie’s chest shuddered as she drew in an unstable breath. “Is that what it was like for you, when I left?”

Nigel nodded. “Yeah. There were days I wondered if you were dead or alive.”