Fireside (16 page)

“It’s a long story. Her husband left her, and she got in trouble with the INS.”

“You mean, the Immigration and Naturalization Service.”

He nodded, pressed the tips of his fingers together. “She was sent immediately to a temporary holding center in Houston. No advance warning whatsoever, and there was no one to take care of AJ. They’ve got no other family in this country, no friends or neighbors who could help. See, she’s an only child. After her father passed away, her mother moved back to Nuevo Laredo. That’s in the Rio Grande valley, on the Mexican side.”

Kim’s heart lurched. “You mean, his mom just went to work one day, and wasn’t allowed to come home?” She could scarcely imagine what that had been like for the boy.

“That’s right,” said Bo. “So I wasn’t about to let him be sent to foster care. But I’ve been living in an apartment above the Hilltop Tavern. It’s too noisy there for a kid. We came here because I wanted him to be in a place that felt more like home. And here we are.”

“In a place that feels like home,” she said quietly. And for the first time, she understood her mother’s enthusiasm for this new enterprise.

“That’s right. If I hadn’t been around, AJ would’ve had to go into foster care. And believe me, foster care is a total crapshoot. It can be the best thing that ever happened to a kid, or it can be a nightmare.”

Her expression must have been easy to read, because he said, “Yeah, I know the system from direct experience.”

She flashed on her own childhood, secure and predictable. Despite her father’s financial missteps, she had never for a moment had to worry about being abandoned. “You were in foster care?”

“A couple of times. The first time it was straight out of a Stephen King novel. After that, another couple took me in, and it was the best thing that ever happened to me. Sometimes, when my mama hit a rough patch, I’d go stay with my coach, a guy named Landry Holmes. We didn’t have much when I was a kid, but Coach Landry taught me to focus on what was important.”

Kim couldn’t help being intrigued, and she caught herself thinking like his publicist. He had a strong personal story. It was a little messy, but that was all just part of the challenge. His matter-of-fact honesty reminded her of the kind of clients she’d started with before she was saddled with guys like Lloyd. She much preferred the ones who deserved a shot, as opposed to the ones who believed they were entitled to one.

The jerk from the airport was fading fast, obliterated by a flesh-and-blood person. AJ’s situation made Kim’s troubles pale in comparison. “He’s just a child. I can’t believe they can separate a mother from her child.”

“Happens a lot apparently. More than you or I know.”

“So what are you going to do?”

“I’ve got a lawyer on it. Sophie Bellamy-Shepherd. You know her?”

“I know the name Bellamy, but no. Not Sophie.”

“Married to a friend of mine, Noah Shepherd. She’s already found an immigration specialist, and they’re filing paperwork with the Board of Immigration Appeals. Someone’s doing a records search on Yolanda’s family, but Sophie warned me that this could take some time.”

“Meanwhile, AJ is with you.”

“That’s right.”

“He must be so worried about his mom,” she said. She also assumed this turn of events was wreaking havoc with Bo’s plans to devote the off-season to preparing for the Yankees. Either the guy was in denial about that, or he was hiding his agitation for the sake of the boy.

“He’s worried, all right,” Bo assured her. “How can he not be? He’s keeping it all inside, though. At least, that’s what I think he’s doing. Wish I knew him better.”

The situation of this man and his son didn’t just intrigue Kim; it moved her. She hadn’t expected that. But sometimes people clicked on a deep level right away, and it wasn’t a matter of how long they’d known one another. It was a matter of interest. She wondered if he was sensing that from her.

“So in the meantime,” she said, “you plan to stay here.”

“Yes, ma’am. He’s going to have to enroll in school, right here in Avalon. Starting Monday.”

“Maybe he’ll be glad about that. Some kids like school.”

Bo sent her a dour look. “It’s midyear, he’s from a different state and he doesn’t know a soul.”

“All right, perhaps that was a little optimistic.”

“I reckon I’ll tell him tonight. Maybe after dinner.” He looked around the room, seeming shell-shocked. “Anyway, thanks, Kim.”

Well. She’d been upgraded from ma’am to Kim. “For what?”

“For not freaking out when you saw me.”

“Why would I freak out?”

“When you answered the door, I thought I was totally screwed.”

She was not exactly flattered by this. “About that…the way I behaved at the airport that morning. That’s not me.”

“I figured you were probably having one of those days,” he said.

“One of those
lives,
” she replied, then shook her head. AJ Martinez was proof positive that there were worse things in the world than Lloyd Johnson. In the wake of her sudden departure, there had been a flurry of calls from her former colleagues, but the calls had already tapered off. Soon—probably before the end of the day—they would cease altogether. That was the nature of this business. It chewed people up and spat them out, all used up and worse for the wear. She used to have the stomach for it, but not anymore.

“That doesn’t sound good,” Bo Crutcher observed. “So what were you doing at the airport, all dolled up like that?” he asked.

“I had to leave L.A. in a hurry. There wasn’t time to change.”

“You on the lam from something?” He was checking her out closely.

She offered a brief, humorless laugh.
From my own life,
she thought. “You ask a lot of questions.”

That smile again. She could almost swear he was flirting with her. “But you don’t answer many,” he said. “Everything okay?”

She thought about AJ again, and the uncertainty he faced. And Bo himself, picking up a suddenly motherless son he’d never met. “I’m all right,” she said.

“Maybe one of these days, you could tell me about yourself. We’ll have to get to know each other.”

No, we won’t,
she thought, dangerously attracted to the smile that seemed to hover on his lips, even when he spoke of troubling matters.

Daisy Bellamy was late again. Even though Charlie was a year and a half old, she still hadn’t mastered the art of coordinating everything she needed and getting out the door on time, even for a simple trip up to Camp Kioga for a family gathering. No matter how far in advance she started getting ready, something always delayed her. This evening, she had everything all planned out—Charlie’s outfit, his bag of gear, her camera bag—but just as she was heading out the door, Charlie found an old Oreo cookie somewhere. By the time she caught him, he was wearing a dark-chocolate grin and a massive smear of damp cookie all over the front of his sweater.

“Oh, Charlie,” she said. “That’s the sweater your grandma O’Donnell made for you, and she’s going to be there tonight.” His paternal grandparents had made a special trip up from Long Island just to see him. Daisy grabbed a sponge and tried to clean the sweater, but her efforts only made it worse. Charlie babbled good-naturedly at her and grabbed the front of her shirt with a grubby hand, managing to soil her, as well.

“That’s right,” she said through gritted teeth. “All dirty.” She took off the sweater over his head, managing to smear more wet cookie on his face and hair. Barely holding on to her patience, she wiped him off as best she could, washed her hands and found clean shirts for both of them. So much for dressing up for the party. Or for being on time.

“This is not what my life was supposed to be,” she said, hurrying out to the car before anything else happened.

“No,” he agreed, using his favorite word.

“At least we agree on something. I swear, Charlie, sometimes…” She didn’t let herself finish. Even though he was too little to understand, she didn’t want him to hear her complain. She buckled him into his car seat and headed north along the lake road, toward Camp Kioga. At times like this, the reality of her life felt like too much. She had her photography work. And Charlie. And school. And Charlie. Always Charlie. He was everything to her, and her love for him was almost frightening in its intensity, but the responsibilities were relentless and never-ending. Charlie got up at the crack of dawn, without fail, and once her day got started, there was no downtime. Never, not once, had she deluded herself that being a single mother was going to be easy. Sometimes she wished she could curl up in a ball and escape, just for a while. With an active toddler, that wasn’t an option.

She shook off her sour mood by focusing on the stark beauty of the twilight. Trees bowed with the weight of fresh snow over the road, creating a tunnel effect. As she rounded a curve, her headlamps illuminated the vast, snow-covered surface of the lake. The dashboard clock indicated that she was only twenty minutes late. Not too bad.

Her cousin Olivia, and Olivia’s husband, Connor, had transformed Camp Kioga, a rustic retreat that had been in her family for generations, into a year-round resort. Olivia and Connor were hosting a farewell celebration for Connor’s brother, Julian Gastineaux. Julian was headed to South Carolina for special ROTC training. He told people he’d signed up for Reserve Officer Training in order to finance his education. Daisy knew there was another reason. Julian also loved the rush of doing dangerous things—parachute training, marksmanship, field maneuvers. He was actually entertained by the notion of staying up all night in the wilderness, training for sniper combat.

Everything about Julian Gastineaux fascinated Daisy, and had for a long time. She’d been half in love with him since the first summer they’d met a few years back. But only half. The other half had done crazy things, like sleeping with another boy, getting pregnant, having a baby out of wedlock. Sometimes she thought Julian wanted to love her back, but she wouldn’t let him. He was on the verge of living his own dream, and she wasn’t a part of that. There wasn’t much point in dreaming. Julian was on a path that included college and a military career, a path that led far away from her.

The road leading in was newly plowed and well lit. She parked, shouldered all her gear and got Charlie out of his seat. He insisted on waddling in his tiny boots to the main lodge, so it took a good five minutes to get inside. With a toddler, everything took ten times longer than normal. She considered herself a patient person, but sometimes she couldn’t help murmuring, “Come on, already…” under her breath.

She arrived to find the party already in full swing, the air alive with music and conversation. Tables were laden with a buffet. The roaring hearth crackled with burning logs, gilding everything with an amber glow. Daisy set down her things and left their coats on a rack by the door. She saw her cousin Jenny and Jenny’s husband, Rourke, but they didn’t see her. They were holding hands and talking. Jenny’s very pregnant form was outlined in the firelight. Daisy felt a twinge of envy. The two of them were having a baby the right way—together. Partners, who would support each other through the scary, exciting birth, the night feedings and unending laundry. They’d share the moments Daisy had experienced alone—their child’s first smile, his first tooth, his first wobbly steps. And she didn’t begrudge them these things. But sometimes she wanted that so much that it felt like a physical ache.

Hearty laughter erupted over at the bar, and glasses clinked. Suddenly bashful because of the noisy crowd, Charlie whimpered and clung to her leg. She scooped him up and settled him on her hip, the movement by now as natural as breathing. “It’s all right, kiddo,” she said. “These are our friends and family, and everyone in this room is ga-ga over you.”

“Ga-ga,” he echoed.

Scanning the group at the bar, she easily spotted Julian. She hung back for a minute, studying him. Her reaction to him was always the same—the pounding heart, the fluttering stomach. The shaved head was a shock. All those glorious, riotous dreadlocks, shorn. Yet somehow, the eight-ball look only accentuated his amazing cheekbones and sensual mouth, the dark eyes and warm café-au-lait skin.

As though he sensed her scrutiny, Julian spotted her. A smile of pure happiness lit his face, and he wended his way across the room to her. For a few seconds, Daisy allowed herself a fantasy. He would cross the room, scoop her into his arms, swing her around and declare that he loved her.

Instead, he gave her a brief hug. “Hey, Daze,” he said, then lightly ruffled Charlie’s downy red hair. “Hey, short stuff. How you doing?”

Charlie tucked his face into the curve of Daisy’s neck.

“Must be the haircut,” Julian said. “Come on. I’ll get you something to drink. You want a beer?”

“Sure.” They had both just turned twenty-one. Having a beer in a room that included her father, various aunts and uncles, and her grandparents, felt a little strange, but she accepted a chilled bottle of Utica Club. She clinked her bottle with his. “Cheers,” she said. “You must be excited about your trip.”

“Completely. But, Daisy…” He grew serious, the merriment leaving his eyes. “I’m going to miss—”

“Da!” Charlie started bucking in Daisy’s arms, causing her beer to erupt, sprinkling both her and the baby. “Da!” he said again, scrambling to get down.

Daisy knew even before she turned who had arrived. Charlie had this reaction to only one person. “Hi, Logan,” she said, greeting the father of her child.

Charlie practically launched himself at Logan. They both shared bright red hair and a sunny outlook on life. Logan was Julian’s opposite in nearly every way. Perhaps that was why she’d slept with him, long ago, back when she was angry and stupid. Logan grabbed the boy and swung him up in the air. “Hey, big guy,” he said, flashing a grin. Then he greeted Daisy and Julian. There was an awkward moment when he focused on the beer bottle in her hand. He was in recovery, but staying clean and sober was an everyday struggle for him.

“Why don’t you take him to see your folks?” she said, holding the bottle low against her leg. Silly. He’d told her many times that he didn’t expect her to avoid drinking around him. Staying sober was his job. Still, she couldn’t help feeling bad.