Tyler O’Neill’s Redemption (13 page)

“Where’s your enthusiasm?” he asked, sliding his two-by-twelves onto the grass.

Miguel just stared back at him blankly.

“Come on, it’ll work,” Tyler said, pulling the plans he’d sketched up last night from his back pocket. He unfolded the piece of paper, tried to smooth out the worst of the wrinkles and, after stealing some masking tape stuck to one of the bundles of boards, taped them to the front of the red door. “Won’t it, Louisa?”

“Yep,” she said, putting the boxes of nails next to the boards.

“But have you ever built anything like this?” Miguel asked.

“No,” Tyler said.

“You ever designed—”

“This is my first,” Tyler said.

“This ain’t ever going to work,” Miguel said.

“Your lack of faith is truly insulting,” Tyler said.

“My lack of faith?” Miguel scoffed. “Dude, you been sitting in a chair refusing to help me tear down a porch because you said you got no clue how to do it. Now, you draw up some crap on a—” Miguel flicked the paper on the door, glancing at the back of it “—flyer for a strip club? And you think I’m going to be able to build it? A porch? By myself?”

“First of all,” Tyler said. “Sully’s is not a strip club. It’s a gentleman’s club and someday you will understand the difference.” Tyler stepped over to the piles of lumber and grabbed the two tool belts. He pretended to hand one to Miguel, but at the last minute he handed it to Louisa, who howled with laughter.

He needed to keep this girl around all the time; she was great for his ego.

“And second, I don’t expect you to build it. I expect us to build it,” Tyler said.

“Me, too?” Louisa asked.

“Of course. Who else will be using all the power tools?”

“She’s not touching any power tools!” Miguel cried, his voice climbing ten octaves.

“It’s a joke, kid.” Tyler smiled at the boy’s steamed expression. “You’ve got to lighten up. Derek helped me with the plans and told me what kind of lumber and tools we needed. He measured and cut most of the wood.”

“Derek gonna come over here and help us build it?”

“No. Come on, man. You and I can do this.”

Miguel squinted at him, sizing him up. The boy’s face was getting better; he still looked like he’d been roughed up, but the burn was less vivid and the bruising was turning yellow.

“First you buy that crappy truck—”

“Don’t call Lila crappy,” Tyler said. “She’s sensitive about her age.”

“Now you’re building porches?” Miguel shook his head. “I always knew you were strange, but this is a whole new level of weird. You’re changing and it ain’t pretty.”

Changing,
Tyler thought.
I can only hope.

“Hey, Miguel?” Louisa said, her voice suddenly smaller than Tyler had heard it all day. “Who is that with Juliette?” she asked, sidling up next to Tyler, reaching for Miguel’s hand.

Miguel and Tyler turned to see Juliette crossing the lawn with Nora Sullivan.

Shit.

“Miguel!” Juliette cried. “We just want to talk.”

“Louisa, come on,” Miguel whispered, backpedaling past the porch. “Run.”

Louisa pressed her face into his shirt, sounds like a kicked dog coming out of her throat.

“You’re scaring her,” Miguel snapped.

“No, Miguel, you are. Listen to me.” Tyler tried to loosen Louisa’s firm grip on his windpipe. “You can run, but…but sometimes it’s smarter to see what you’re running from.”

The words were barely out his mouth before Juliette was there and Tyler realized how terribly ironic it was that he should say that. He’d run away from the best thing that had ever happened to him. He’d known that, and still he’d run.

“Miguel,” Juliette said. “Ms. Sullivan just wants to talk to you. She’s not taking anyone anywhere.”

She reached for Miguel but he stepped away and Nora Sullivan took over like an arctic wind. “We need to talk, Miguel,” she said, and Miguel froze. Even Louisa stopped whimpering. “As the person taking care of Louisa, you need to be making some smart decisions, and running away with her, with no money and no means to get anywhere, isn’t a smart decision.”

Miguel blinked and Tyler had to hand it to Nora. Treating the boy like an adult held him spellbound.

“Louisa?” Nora asked with a smile that softened her face. “Could you come and talk to your brother and I for a moment?”

Louisa loosened her death grip on Tyler’s throat and took the few steps between Tyler and her brother.

“If you’d give us a moment?” Nora said, dismissing Tyler and Juliette, and they both nodded, easing around to the other side of the porch.

Once out of sight, Juliette turned away from him, braced her hands on her hips and took deep breaths, staring up at the sky, calming some panic inside her.

“Juliette—”

There was a second during which Tyler felt his heart beating in his face, his hands, his feet.

He’d sworn after that botched apology that he was going to let go of Juliette. In his mind. His heart. He was going to just let this end because he couldn’t stand it anymore. Loving her and being hated by her tore the skin from his bones.

But he couldn’t watch her in pain and not feel it.

Finally she turned with a slicing smile and over-bright eyes that didn’t fool him for a minute.

“Oh, Jules—” He reached for her but she lifted her hand, her eyes blazing, and he stopped, the motion unfulfilled.

“Everything okay?” he asked.

“I have no clue,” she said, jerking her shoulders. “No idea. I won’t lose my job, but that hardly matters if those two get split up.”

“You’ve done everything you can,” he said.

“Really? Because right now, it seems all I’ve done is broken the law, several times. Kept Miguel and his sister in a dangerous home environment, trusted them to your keeping…”

He backed up. This again. He shouldn’t have baited her the other day. That dirty little secret thing had just made things worse and he didn’t want that. They were on the same team when it came to those kids and he just kept antagonizing Juliette.

Not that she didn’t deserve it, but still. He was trying to be a better man.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “You don’t deserve that. You’ve been…great. Better than—”

“You could expect?” He smiled to make it a joke but she wasn’t laughing.

“Better than anyone else would have been. And more important, you stepped in, when no one else would.”

“I was just trying to get into your pants,” he said with a shrug. “Hasn’t worked.”

Her laugh sounded like it was escaping a choke hold and then, suddenly, it was that laugh of hers he remembered. Like standing under a cool shower on a hot day.

Danger, he thought, but he couldn’t back away if he had to. Juliette laughing. She was no longer the cold stranger; she was the girl he loved—the girl who had loved him. Her laughter was a revelation and it had been so long.

“You stepped in, when that kid had no one,” he said, feeling a sudden swell of warmth for this woman. For her brave face and all her heart.

I love you,
he thought.
More than ever.

“Well, I don’t think I did him any favors.”

“How can you say that?”

“Because Nora Sullivan tore me a new one in my office ten minutes ago,” she said, and then shook her head. “Let’s…let’s talk about something else. How was your morning?”

“Good. Louisa ate her weight in sausage, and Miguel had two shakes.”

“I’ll reimburse you.”

“Stop, Juliette. I’m with you. I’m on your side. You don’t owe me anything.”

She looked at him a long time, her hazel eyes unguarded by glasses and for a second he felt naked—as if she could see through his clothes and skin to the heart that beat for her.

“Thank you,” she said, sincere and warm, and he was touched by her genuine gratitude. “I should have said that before.”

“You did.”

“I didn’t mean it.”

Now he was laughing, and the good times between them were close enough to taste.

“Chief Tremblant,” Nora Sullivan said, coming around the side of the porch with her hands on the shoulders of the two kids. The two smiling kids.

He heard Juliette gasp and they shared a startled look.

“I guess everything is okay?” Juliette asked.

Miguel just shrugged but Nora nodded. “We’ve set up some counseling sessions for the entire family. I am going to go find Mr. Pastor to set up a schedule and let him know what Miguel and Louisa have decided.”

“What…what have you decided?” Juliette asked.

“We want to stay in our home,” Miguel said. “But only if Dad stops drinking.”

“And if he doesn’t?” Juliette asked.

Miguel and Louisa shared a long look. “Ms. Sullivan says we won’t be split up if we go into foster care, she knows someone who can take us together.”

“Okay,” Juliette said after a moment. She seemed slightly unglued and Tyler put his hand on her shoulder to steady her. The heat of her skin through her linen shirt melted him and he wanted to wrap himself around her warmth and not let go.

So, he forced himself to, taking his hand back and shoving it deep in his pocket.

He was happy for her, but this was her happiness.

“Ms. Sullivan,” Juliette said, stepping away from Tyler. “I’ll take you back to the station.”

“And I’ll put you two back to work,” Tyler said.

Juliette and Nora Sullivan left, and as he led the kids away he couldn’t help hugging Louisa to his side.

“I’m proud of you,” he said to Miguel.

“I need to take care of my family,” Miguel said, his eyes on his sister as she raced on ahead, looking for her tool belt.

“I’m sorry,” Juliette said. “I was—”

“Scared. Like the kid. I understand. Trust me, I do.” Oddly enough, Juliette had the sense that Nora did understand. “It is not my job to hurt kids or to break up families. I have to make every reasonable effort to prevent removal of children from their homes. It’s my job to keep kids safe, and to that end, I appreciate what you’ve done. As wholly misguided and illegal as it was.”

“You’re not what I expected,” Juliette said.

“I get that a lot. Look, call my office tomorrow and we’ll set up some meetings.” Nora tilted her head slightly, regarding Juliette carefully. “You and Miguel appear to be close.”

Juliette nodded, leaning against her car, not feeling as if she was under scrutiny anymore. Feeling more as though she had found a powerful ally. “He and his sister are special kids. They just need someone to care.” She let that sink in for a moment.

“You should consider being a foster parent,” she suggested.

“Me?”
Juliette asked, the idea shocking the hell out of her, so much so that she said the most asinine thing that sprang into her head. “I’m not married—”

“You don’t need to be,” Nora said. “You need to meet the qualifications and fill out the application. I would be willing to write you a letter of recommendation.”

Juliette gaped. “You would? But the letter in my file—”

“Will still be there, with some qualifications.” She lifted a finger. “We’re a small parish and I’ve got seventeen kids in eight foster homes. We’re strapped. And a woman like you is the kind of person we need. Someone who cares enough to put the kids first. With some training and some help, you’ll be perfect. And considering that Miguel and Louisa have a fairly high likelihood of being put into foster care, it would be good to have a place with someone they know and trust.”

“But you said you knew of someone who would take them both.”

Nora’s smile was sly and realization dawned.

“That’s sneaky. What if I didn’t want to be a foster parent?”

“I have a hunch about you, Chief Tremblant,” she said, and opened up her briefcase while Juliette turned over the idea in her head.

It was nothing she had ever considered. Ever. But she would know that Miguel and Louisa were safe, that they had a future they deserved and that she would be a part of it.

Thinking of watching them grow up, being privy to their lives, their adulthood, thrilled her, filled her with a big fat warm glow.

And then of course, maybe, in time—twenty or so years—she could win back Miguel’s trust.

“Think about it,” Nora said, handing Juliette a blue folder with the words
So You’re Thinking About Being a Foster Parent?
printed on the front.

I am?
she thought. And the idea took hold, gripping her with such force she wanted to shout.

Yes. I am.