Someone to Watch Over Me (13 page)

My frown deepened. “I always thought I was
being a responsible adult and mother, but you make me sound
downright pathetic.”

“
You
walked away from Tate Watkins, Singer,
Songwriter, Record Producer, and apparently the Sheik of Peaks.
When it comes to self-indulgence, you
are
pathetic.”

“
Wow, thanks
for
giving it to me gently.”

“
Sometimes
the kid gloves gotta come off, Coop. And this was one of those
times. Now case th
e tiny violin and pull
out the big girl panties. You have groveling to do next time you
see him.”

“
Thanks, I’m
going to do that right now.” Actually, I was going to call my
mother before she had a massive coronary, and
do some laundry while we talked. I didn’t have the time for
the Laundromat, but I could wash the cushion covers and hang them
over the railing to dry.

“
Fine. I’m
going. I know when I’m being kicked out. Just don’t squander my
advice. There’re plenty of others out there who would heed what I
tell them.”

“
Em?” Em
paused, her palm flat against the door.
I
wrung my hands together, fiddling nervously. “If you had to do it
over, would you do it again?”

“
In a
heartbeat.”

“
If I do
this,” I asked, “if I stay, would you teach me to
shoot?”

“
Sugar, I’ve
been waiting for you to ask. Just let me know when.”

“Tomorrow.”

“Ambitious. I like it.”

“
Scared,” I
clarified. “Shitless.”

“
Fear
can be crippling, but it can also be a strong
motivator, especially when one comes between a mother and her
child. Think of Levy, Coop. Be stronger for him. Think of his life,
and not just his physical existence in the world. He deserves
better than a life on the run.”

“
I know he
does, but it doesn’t make
the thought of
facing Grant any easier.”

“
I’m here.
Garris
on is here. Your friends, your
parents are here. You’re not alone.”

Abandoning
the windowsill, I started tossing the cushion covers into the
laundry basket, hiding the moisture building in my eyes. “Thanks,
Em. I’ll bring Levy by in a few hours.”

If I wasn’t
leaving, I had tables to wait. Bills didn’t pay
themselves.

Behind me,
the screen door closed with a thwack. Em was good at reading
people. I had to give her that. She knew when to push and when to
let go. I never appreciated her
discretion more than at that moment. I needed time to get a
hold of myself, collect my composure.

Luckily,
the
foam cushion was almost dry. By the
time I left for work, it would be good to go. I tossed the
removable covers into the basket along with the rest of my dirty
clothes.

My
parents weren’t as easily managed. A
longstanding friend of the family had spotted the video while
browsing the internet, and you know how gossip goes. They passed it
down the line until it reached my mother’s inbox. She wanted me to
come home where she could lock Levy and me behind closed doors,
never again to see the light of day. She hadn’t actually expressed
that in words, but the connotation was present in the tone of her
voice. I couldn’t blame her. She was worried. She hadn’t wanted me
to move out in the first place.

Dad wasn’t
far
from agreement. His main concern was
my safety, which he wanted to secure by luring Grant to their house
(where mom would have us safely locked away) so he could ‘blow his
fucking brains out’ when he showed up on their doorstep. In
contrast to my mother’s insinuations, those were my father’s words,
verbatim. Never mind that Dad didn’t own a gun. Nor had he ever
shot one. Dad, in fact, hadn’t a violent bone in his
body.

In the end,
they acquiesced to my decision. I assured them that I
ha
d a great bunch of friends, who were
all looking out for me, and that I had taken precautions in case
Grant were to show up. I didn’t believe it myself, but there was
only so much I could do short of running.

Lifting the hamper and hitching over my hip,
I pushed the door open with my foot. “Come on Levy, help Momma do
some laundry?”

The washer
and dryer were in the tack room below, accessible to
b
oth tenants at their leisure, but I
didn’t like to leave Levy alone. The stairs were steep. If he
changed his mind about tagging along and tried to navigate them on
his own, I was afraid he might fall.

At the
mention of laundry, his eyes brightened.
“I get cow-its?”

“
Yes, go get
the carrots.
Come on.”

“
I feed da
hoses
cow-its.”

“Yes, you feed the horses carrots.”

And
so the conversation continued. It was all
customary of doing laundry, and the highlight of Levy’s day. He
retrieved two of the largest, thickest cow-its from the
refrigerator drawer and trundled through the door. I grabbed his
hand before he could trundle head first down the stairs.

Thus
, I was busy conversing about
the size of the hoses teef and which hoses deserved cow-its first,
and not paying attention to the corner of the slipcover that
escaped the hamper and consequently snared my toes. Somehow,
unbeknownst to me, I managed to slip my hand from Levy’s grasp so
that I didn’t take him down with me. The stairs altered into a
ninety-degree ski slope, which my Sketchers weren’t equipped to
traverse. I compensated by releasing the hamper. This tumbled down
the stairs, scattering laundry down the remaining treads, further
exacerbating the situation. Throwing my weight back, I hoped to
land on my butt instead of sliding down the flight headfirst. It
worked to a certain degree. I landed on the aforesaid focus of my
anatomy and continued backward, smacking my head and back on the
wooden stair then continued down the slope of linens one step at a
time, gravity carrying me to the bottom.

“Momma!” Levy cried. “Yew faw down!”

I lay there stunned, waiting for the pain to
arrive. Surely I didn’t escape a fall of that magnitude unscathed.
“Yes, I fell down, Lev.”

“
Momma
getted boo boo?”

“
No,” I
breathed. Yep, there was the pain. My head ached. Stars floated in
my field of vision. My back felt chafed and bruised.
“
I’m ok. You just stay right where you
are, buddy.”

“
I
sit.”

“
Yes, you
sit.” Closing my eyes, I waited
for my
head to stop spinning and the pain to fade. My ears were ringing,
but I think it was more the shock than the fall. They rang that way
sometimes when Levy was having a bad day.

In the
distance
, I heard the ping of gravel.
From the sound of the engine, I guessed it was Mr. Craig. I dared a
peek, loath to being found flat on my back. Nope, it was even
worse. I was mortified to find it wasn’t Mr. Craig, but a specific
black Escalade barreling up the driveway.

Dropping my head back down, I winced at the
tender spot on my scalp.

God, just let me die now.

“Cooper!” The car door slammed. I could hear
the crunch of gravel under Tate’s feet. “Jesus Christ! Cooper!”

I lifted my hand, hoping to allay his fears.
“I’m ok. I’m ok.”

“What the hell happened?”

“I fell down the stairs, obviously.”

“Can you move? Do I need to dial
nine-one-one?”

“
No, please
don’t. Like this isn’t humiliating enough.”

“How long have you been lying here like
this?”

“
All
afternoon
.” Tate’s face appeared above
me, mouth pulled into a frown.

“
You’re
joking, right?

“Yes.”

“
That’s a
good sign, I think. But get up anyway. You’re making me nervous.
I’ll feel better when you move.” Placing one hand beneath my back,
he took my other hand and hauled me off the stairs. I clung to him
for a minute while my head stopped spinning. “You sure you’re not
hurt?”

“Actually, my ass took the brunt of the
fall. Do you want to—”

“
Don’t say
it.” His tone drew me up short. My eyes drew to his face. “I’m not
in the mood for humor.” He wasn’t. His eyes were hard, his mouth
taut. He was unmistakably angry.

“I’m sorry.”

“
How could
you just leave like that? After everything you’ve told me today,
and with Carter’s freakin’ video posted on the internet for the
world to see? I had no idea where you live. I’ve been driving
around lost for hours trying to find this place, worried—yes,
worried—that this asshole might already know where you are, that he
might’ve beaten me here, or that you might not have even made it
home. You were scared out of your gourd. You could’ve gotten in an
accident. I told you to wait, didn’t’ I? I told you I wanted to
come with you?”

Grovel, Em
told me, so I pushed out a,
“Yes. I’m
sorry that you worried.”

“
You didn’t
think I would, because of who I am? I don’t have feelings? I’m not
a person like everyone else?”

“Well, yeah, sort of.”

“
Jesus,
Cooper, I thought you were smarter than that.”

“
I am.”
Sighing, I dragged a hand through my hair. Looked to Levy who was
perched quietly on the stairs, watching us with forlorn eyes. I
held my arms out, lifted him onto my hip. I probably just
traumatized him for life.

“Yew faw down.”

“
Yep, I sure
did.” I pressed a kiss to the crown of his head, smoothed the blond
curls from his face. “Why don’t you and Tate give the horses their
carrots while I pick up the laundry. Ok, buddy?”

“
Day half
big teef
.”

“
Yes they
do. Remember—show Tate how to hold his hand so the horses don’t
bite his fingers.”

“Should I be afraid?” Tate inquired, taking
Levy from my arms.

“
Just keep
your fingers out of the way and you’ll be fine. I’ll only be a
minute. Then we can finish talking.”

“
Seriously,
they won’t really bite my fingers off, will they?”

“
Wait,” I
amended, fighting a smile. “I’ll be right there.” Better to be safe
than sorry. Tate’s hands were worth a lot of money, and he needed
them to play guitar.

“
Hey.” Tate
grabbed my arm before I could
turn away.
“I didn’t mean to shout. You scared me when I found you lying there
like that. I thought that something happened to you.”

“
It’s fine.
You had every right to be upset.”

“
Have, not
had. I’m still upset. We’re not nearly done talking.”

I nodded and
turned to pick up my
laundry. Movement at
the top of the stairs caught my eye. The small gap in Em’s blinds
dropped closed. Mother hen retreated to her nest. Shaking my head,
I bent and scooped up my laundry, deposited it in the hamper. I
wouldn’t be surprised to find Mr. Craig hiding in the trees. The
two were always spying on me.

In the barn,
I ducked into the tack room. It was small, and filled wall to wall
with equipment, from brushes and saddles to shovels and pitchforks.
And yes, it had those huge hooks that you always see in horror
movies. Mr. Craig used them to move bales of hay. Said they saved
his hands. Still, they made me shiver. I quickly stuffed the covers
into the washer machine, turned the dial to heavy duty and left the
huge, creepy hooks to their devices.

In the
pasture,
Tate was braving the horses,
urged by Levy, no doubt. Poor Barrel had his neck extended, his
bulbous lip wriggling and stretching to reach the carrot, which
Tate proffered from a safe distance away. At the last second, he
chickened out and yanked his hand back, dropping the carrot to the
ground. Undiscouraged, Levy picked it up and offered it back to
Tate, who stared at the dirt-covered root as if it was the origin
of all infectious diseases.

“
Yew
cow-it.”

“I don’t want it.”

“Yew feed it to da hose.”

“No, thank you.”

“
Das bow
wows cow-it.”

“
That’s not
a dog, kid.” Tate pointed to the beast in question.
“
It’s a horse.”

“
B
ow wow hose.”

“Let me explain something to you, kid.” Tate
dropped to a crouch. “Doggies say bow wow. Horses say neigh.” He
did a horrible impression of a neigh as a demonstration.

“
Yew sewy,”
Levy giggled.
“Bow wow says
neigh.”

“
Whatever
you say.”

I dithered
on letting Tate know the horse
’s name was
Barrel. Levy pronounced it Bow wow. And Barrel was definitely a
horse, but I was lost in the disparity of this grown man conversing
with my son. Mr. Craig was a great guy, but he tended to shy from
Levy as if he were an alien life form, and I didn’t see my dad very
often. That left Levy deficient of masculine camaraderie. So
naturally, I sat back and imagined the possibilities, building
castles in the air.