His Ordinary Life (19 page)

“Because he needs you.” The words burned her throat. “You have to handle this.”

“He needs both of us—”

She shook her head. “No, right now, he needs you, because you’ll understand how afraid he is and because you’ll understand exactly how much he needs your support. I can’t give him that.”

His eyes softened, glowed. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.” Her stomach fell with the words, much as it had when she’d relinquished Blake to his hold for the first time, when he was just minutes old, red and squalling. She smiled, although her lips trembled, and tapped her finger against his wrist. “Go.”

He moved, but looked back at her once, his gaze fiery and sweet. The door closed behind him, leaving her alone in the hall.

She stared at the door for a long moment and turned away. The sunlight outside beckoned, the palm fronds on the patio outside waving in a lazy breeze, but she couldn’t leave. Her heart was tied to whatever was said in the room behind her.

Rubber soles squeaked on the tile, and Barbara turned. A nurse’s aide hustled down the hall, pushing a cart laden with balloons, flowers and stuffed animals. The woman paused, puffed a curl of gray hair off her forehead, and consulted a clipboard. From the cart, she lifted an armful of items—a green plant, a large balloon hovering over a stuffed tiger, a smiley-face carnation in a milk-glass vase, and a second balloon attached to a large white envelope. She eyed Blake’s closed door.

“Are those for Blake?” Barbara stepped forward with a smile. At the woman’s nod, she held out her hands. No one was disturbing the conversation in that room. “I’m his mother. I’ll take them.”

The woman deposited the gifts in her arm and continued down the hall. Barbara surveyed the hallway for a place to set the heavy plant. The balloons bounced and danced, ribbons wrapping around her arms. The carnation grinned up at her, one of its pasted-on googly eyes at an odd angle.

“Let me help you with those.” Brian Rawlings’s deep voice held a hint of laughter and she glanced over her shoulder at him. Dressed in jeans and a T-shirt with the logo of a local college band, he looked relaxed and approachable, quite different from his buttoned-up school persona.

“Thanks.” Barbara held the plant in his direction. “Would you set that by the door, please?”

“No problem.” He did so and straightened to look down at her. Interest glinted in his blue eyes and she shifted, uncomfortable. He nodded toward Blake’s door. “Why are you out here?”

“Del and his brother are talking to Blake.” She put on a polite facade. “What brings you by on such a great Saturday?”

“I heard about what happened at your house and wanted to make sure you were all right.” He stuck his hands in his pockets. “Your brother-in-law’s a cop, right?”

She nodded. “Yes, he is.”

“I saw him at school, doing interviews. He and Blake look a lot alike.”

“They do. All the Calvert men look alike. Blake’s no exception.”

Brian glanced away, a slight twist to his mouth. “Makes it a little hard for you to forget the past, doesn’t it?”

She swallowed hard and wrapped a balloon’s ribbon around her finger. “Brian—”

“I never had a chance, did I?” He looked at her again, his gaze wry. “You’re not over him.”

If she wasn’t telling her children she still loved their father, she certainly wasn’t telling Brian. Instead, she shook her head. “I’d like us to be friends, though.”

“We already are. I’d hoped we could be more.” He shrugged, still smiling. “But you know how it goes…you win some, you lose some.”

Relieved he was taking the rejection so well, she laughed lightly. “I appreciate your coming by to check on us today. And helping me get my grades straight. Your taking that on has been a godsend.”

He chuckled. “That’s what friends do, right?”

Blake’s door swished open and she spun, her heart thudding. Tick stepped into the hall, pulling the door closed behind him with a quiet click. He darted a quick, quizzical look at Brian.

Barbara indicated Brian with a wave. “This is Brian Rawlings. He teaches with me at the high school.”

The two men exchanged perfunctory handshakes.

Barbara lifted her eyebrows at Tick. “What’s going on?”

Tick shrugged. “He wants to talk to Del, alone.”

“Did he say anything?”

“No.”

“But he wants to talk to Del?” Shifting the goofy beaming carnation to the same arm with the stuffed tiger, she pressed a hand to her pounding heart. “Do you think he’s going to tell him?”

Tick tugged a hand through his hair. “Lord, I hope so.”

Footsteps and a soft giggle drew their attention. Traci Herndon approached from the elevator area, a slight young man by her side. Barbara smiled. Somewhere in the crowd downstairs, Traci had found Jamie Reese. He moved with quick, nervous movements, his posture painfully self-conscious next to Traci’s exuberance.

As the two teens neared, Jamie glanced up, tossed his sandy bangs back and gave Barbara a shy grin. “Hey, Miss Barbara.” He held his hand out to Tick and shot a quick wary glance at Brian. “Mr. Calvert. Mr. Rawlings.”

Tick gave the boy’s hand a shake. “How’s your mama?”

Jamie ducked his head, hiding bashful eyes. “She’s good.”

“That is so cute!” Traci touched a finger to the silly carnation in the crook of Barbara’s arm. “Who sent it?”

“I haven’t looked.” Barbara forced a smile for the girl’s benefit. “We’ll let Blake open the cards.”

Traci bounced on her heels. “When can we see him?”

“In a few minutes.” Barbara shook her head, her smile feeling less forced. She’d taught Traci the semester before; that eternal enthusiasm was hard to resist. “He’s with his dad.”

The simple phrase conjured a lifetime of images, all boiled down to Del measuring Blake’s hand against his own, his faith that their son couldn’t be a killer, his determination to protect Blake.

She couldn’t have placed him in better hands.

The door opened again. Del stepped into the hall. Barbara’s gaze flew to his face—he was pale, his eyes damp and red-rimmed. She clutched the gifts tighter to keep from reaching for him. She swallowed, her throat tight, his silence stretching between them.

“Del?” Her voice trembled. “What did he say?”

“Everything.” A deep breath traveled through Del’s body with a visible shudder. “He told me everything.”

He opened his eyes, the brown depths shimmering with unshed tears. His mouth trembled and firmed, the tense line of his jaw telling her he was biting the inside of his lip to keep it still. Her heart contracted. God, he looked so much like Del. And she loved both of them so much.

He blinked, the glitter in his gaze intensifying. The first tears slipped over his lashes. He sucked in a harsh breath, moments before the rough sobs attacked his lean frame.

Barbara dumped the gifts on the table by the window. The smiling carnation tipped over, water dripping on the floor. She sat on the edge of the bed and wrapped her arms around him. He shook in her embrace, crying into the curve of her neck, and she held him closer.

“Mama,” he gasped, his face warm and moist against her skin, “I was so scared.”

“I know.” She stroked his hair, the strands thick and soft under her fingers. With the picture of him, scared, alone, hurting, in her mind, her heart ached. She kissed the top of his head, inhaling the sharp medicinal scent of Betadine. “I know.”

He cried harder, his arms around her waist, tremors shaking him. Mindful of his still-healing surgical incision, Barbara rocked him in a gentle sway, much as she had when he’d been small and had awakened from a nightmare.

“I wanted to tell you.” The words emerged on choked sobs. “But I couldn’t. Mason s-said…he said he’d hurt…I was afraid for you and the girls. He’d already hurt me and I’d seen what they did to Cassie.”

Oh, God.
She hugged him closer, pressing her cheek to his hair. She’d give anything to take that memory away from him, but at least she could help him deal with it. Tori could help them there.

“Mason?” Barbara lifted her head. She smoothed his damp bangs away from his forehead. She couldn’t have heard him correctly. “Mason Monroe?”

He gulped back a sob, the sound audible in the quiet room, and nodded. “Daddy didn’t tell you?”

“He didn’t tell me anything,” she said, still struggling to process her jumbled thoughts. “He…he’s talking to your Uncle Tick.” All she’d wanted to do was get to Blake. She wet her suddenly dry lips. “Blake,
Mason
attacked you?”

Tensing, he pulled away. “I knew you wouldn’t believe me—”

“No. No, it’s not that.” She cupped his face, forcing him to look at her. Distress glimmered in the dark gaze. She smiled, her mouth trembling, and she brushed at the edges of his hair again. “I do believe you. I do.”

And she did. He had no reason to lie. Not now. Anger burned, spreading a trail of acid through her veins. The little rat. Pretending to be concerned, to be Blake’s friend, when all the while he’d been responsible for his injuries.

She shook off the fury. Her first concern, her
only
concern, was Blake. She could give in to the anger later. At this moment, her son needed reassurance. “Blake, listen to me.” Urgency saturated her voice. “I believe you. Everything will be fine. I promise you. Uncle Tick and your daddy—”

“He’s staying.” He blurted the statement, excitement lacing the words. “He said he was. He’s not going back.”

“I know.” She smiled and kissed his forehead. “I know.”

With a fist, he scrubbed at his eyes, the action of an exhausted and distraught child. Barbara stroked his hair, the painful surge of maternal love filling her once more. “You’re tired and you need some rest. It’s been a long morning.”

He lay back against the pillow and blinked up at the ceiling, his eyes glistening with fresh tears. “Mama, I’m sorry. For everything.”

Holding his hand, she rubbed her thumb across his knuckles. “I know you are, honey. But no more secrets, okay? There’s nothing you can’t tell me.”

His eyes slid closed, but he smiled. “That’s what Daddy said, too.”

Rising to her feet, she leaned down to kiss him. “Rest now. I’ll be outside for a minute, then I’m coming back.”

He nodded and blew out a long, unsteady breath. Barbara looked at him for an extended moment, watching relaxation smooth the worry from his features. She eased away from the bed.

“Mama?” His drowsy voice stopped her halfway to the door.

“Hmmm?” She turned. His eyes remained shut, but a small gleeful grin curved his mouth.

“I don’t think I’m the only reason Daddy’s not going back to Atlanta.”

What could she say to that? “Go to sleep, Delbert Blake. I’ll see you in a little while.”

His sleepy chuckle followed her. In the hallway, Del leaned against the wall. Tick stood down the corridor, using the courtesy phone at the nurse’s station. Brian had disappeared, as well as Traci and Jamie.

Del straightened, his features tight. “Is he all right?”

She nodded, wanting to reach out and smooth away the frown lines on his brow. “He’s resting.”

“Good.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “Tick’s arranging to have Mason Monroe picked up.”

“I can’t…” The words faded, and she fiddled with one of her earrings. Something just didn’t fit. She bit her lip and glanced at Del. “Tick said brothers. He’s looking for a pair of brothers.”

“Yeah. I guess they’ll pick both of them up.”

“That’s the thing, Del. Mason doesn’t have a brother. He’s an only child.”

“Are you sure?” Tick asked, joining them. He looked harried, his jaw clenched, fine lines fanning out from his exhausted eyes.

“I’m positive.”

Tick frowned. “I’ll have Williams run the DNA profile again. She could have made a mistake, which knowing her, isn’t very likely. She’s meticulous as hell. It’s possible one of the samples was corrupted.”

“You’re still picking this kid up, right?” Seething anger hardened Del’s voice.

“Of course. We’ll take him and Keimond in for questioning, and I can hold him based on Blake’s statement.” Tick glanced between them. “I need him to talk to me officially, though.”

“Keimond Jones?” Barbara stared at him, her eyebrows raised.

“He didn’t tell you that part?”

She shook her head, a dazed unreality holding her. “He was upset. We didn’t get that far.”

Del ran a hand over his leg. “Blake was looking for Jamie Reese that night, to go riding along the bluff. He found the other two instead. The Howard girl was already dead. The Monroe kid told him to keep his mouth shut, made some threats, had the Jones boy rough him up a little while Monroe held him.”

“Mason and
Keimond
?”

“That’s what he said.”

“You don’t understand. They hate each other. I have them together in second period and it’s a constant struggle to keep them from each other’s throats. My entire seating chart revolves around those two. They’re good kids separately—” Tick and Del exchanged a look at her words, and she sighed. “I
thought
they were good kids, both smart and hard workers. But put them together, and you have chaos. Greg Tucker had to separate them at football practice last week.”

“Maybe chaos led to Cassie Howard getting killed.” Tick shrugged. “Any idea how she might be connected?”

“No. She’s a sophomore and they’re seniors. They wouldn’t have any classes together, and they weren’t involved in the same activities. Cassie wasn’t involved in any at all. She wasn’t at school enough.”

“I gathered that from her school records and the visit with her mother.” Tick grimaced. “Something brought these three kids together. And that same something probably resulted in Cassie’s murder.”

“You just have no idea what that is.” Del glanced sideways at a nurse hurrying past and lowered his voice. “Or if it’s still a threat to my family.”

One of Tick’s eyebrows winged upward and a wry grin twisted his mouth. “Trust me, Cookie and I’ll make the connection. We’ll keep a guard posted on Blake. When I get back to the office, I’ll ask Parker and Farr to make a couple extra passes by Barb’s place tonight. Or are you staying at Mama’s again?”

Del shot a quizzical glance at her. “What do you want to do?”

For once, she wanted him to make the decisions. He wouldn’t, though. She’d told him he couldn’t make all the rules and he was honoring that. What did she
want
to do? She wanted to take her home back from the intruders as soon as possible, but she also needed her girls to feel safe. How long would it be before they experienced a sense of security in their own home again?

She shrugged and looked at Del, hating the helpless feeling. The last thing she desired was to appear weak before him. “I don’t know yet.”

“That’s fine.” His steady gaze held hers. “We can decide later.”

“I’d have to clean before the girls could come home.”

He looked away, coughing into his hand. “I, er, took care of that already. I didn’t think you needed to worry about it.” With a sheepish half-smile, he tilted his head in Tick’s direction. “Chuck helped us. It only took an hour or so. I…you may have to repaint one of the walls. You can’t read the words anymore, but there’s a huge pink stain left.”

They could paint over it, but it wouldn’t be erased, not really. Those words would always be there. Blake’s scars would always be with them.

But if he could, the man before her would take them away. He’d take care of them all. She could let him do that. She could lean on him,
need
him, and still remain strong. In return, she would strengthen him.

She smiled. “You didn’t have to do that. But thank you.”

Their gazes met, clung, and a sweet silence stretched between them.

Tick cleared his throat and slapped Del on the back. “I’m going to head out. I’ll call you after the interviews are over.”

“Thanks.” As his brother walked away, Del hitched his thumbs in his pockets. The engaging curve of his mouth took her breath. Her stomach fluttered once and dropped, a low ache in the very pit of her belly.

“I want you back.” The words slipped from her lips. The very rightness of them settled in her and she straightened, meeting his scorching stare. “I’m answering your questions. I love you, and I want you back.”

He groaned, casting a glance around the hallway. “I can’t believe you’re saying this
here
, where I can’t do anything about it,” he said with a rueful laugh. He reached for her but dropped his hands. Instead, he took one step closer, not touching her. His gaze burned her. “I love you.”

Not being able to touch and be touched was excruciating. The heat emanating from him seemed more intense, and she wanted to pull him close and wrap herself around him. She wanted his mouth on hers. She swallowed, hands balled until her nails stung her palms.

His laugh this time was lower, rougher. He turned his head, the corner of his mouth quirking up. “God, Barb, you’ve got to quit looking at me like that.”

The tiny smile died, his gaze sharpening, and she spun. Tick strode toward them, face set in a frustrated scowl.

“We have a problem,” he said, reaching them.

“What’s wrong?” Barbara asked, a lump settling in her stomach.

Tick ran a hand through already disheveled hair. “We can’t find Mason Monroe.”

Del frowned. “What do you mean, you can’t find him?”

“Just that. We can’t locate him. Cookie did, however, find Keimond Jones.”

The heaviness in his voice made the knot in her stomach grow larger.

“That doesn’t sound good,” Del said, giving voice to her fears.

“It’s not. The kid’s downstairs in the ER with massive head wounds.”

“Damn it.” Del pounded a fist against his thigh.

“Yeah. And it doesn’t look good. Anyway, Cookie and I are going out, trying to find the Monroe kid. Parker’s on his way up here. He’s going to stand guard.”

“The girls,” Barbara whispered. Fighting a wave of panic, she looked at Del. “One of us has to go get the girls.”

“I’ll go. I want you here.” He tagged Tick on the chest. “Make sure your guy watches over her, too.”

Barbara backed toward Blake’s door. “I’m going to sit with him.” Protective urges flowed through her. No one would get a second opportunity to touch her child without coming through her first.

“All right.” Del pulled his keys from his pocket. The public address system dinged, a garbled voice paging Dr. Mackey to the ER. Del’s gaze met hers, dropped to her lips and moved up to her eyes. Her mouth tingled under that brief look. “I’ll get the girls and meet you back here. Then we’ll decide what to do.”

Tick at his side, he walked away. She watched, both of them moving in a familiar loose-limbed stride. Her throat caught and she took a step forward. “Del?”

He turned, eyebrows lifted in silent questioning.

“Be careful.”

A brief smile curled his mouth and disappeared. “Sure thing. You, too.”

Clutching the door handle behind her, she watched until he was out of sight.