Читать книгу A Child's Gift - Linda Warren - Страница 13

CHAPTER TWO

THE BAKERY WAS on the east corner across the street from the courthouse, facing the main entrance. The sheriff’s office and the jail were on the west side and connected to the courthouse by a covered walkway. Jericho walked instead of taking his truck. He called Elias on the way, telling him about the kolaches, the boy and that he would explain later.

It was after six in the morning and a steady line of people were going into the diner for breakfast. Another morning. Another day. Jericho looked down at the boy in his arms. But this one would be different.

He went through the sheriff’s office door, but no one was at the front desk so he continued on into the office. Bubba was at a desk writing something in a file.

“Hey, Rico, what have you got there?” Bubba was a big guy, tall as Jericho, but he weighed close to three hundred pounds. That never held Bubba back. There wasn’t a friendlier person in Horseshoe, Texas.

“Dustin Miller. He walked into the bakery about five thirty this morning hungry and dirty. The sheriff is checking on his grandmother.”

“What were you doing at the bakery that early?” There was an accusatory tone in his voice and Rico didn’t like it. It was so unlike Bubba. But when it came to family, the Wiznowskis always pulled together. For a moment it crossed his mind that Bubba might think Rico wasn’t good enough for his sister.

“I was picking up kolaches for the guys at Rebel Ranch. We go to work early, you know, and Anamarie always has them ready early.” Rico laid Dustin on one of the cots in a cell and straightened to face Bubba, trying to ignore that feeling in his gut at the steel bars. “Do you have a problem with that?”

Bubba held up his hands. “No, man, no. You’re taking this the wrong way.”

“Which way should I take it?”

“Well, you know, my mom is...”

“She doesn’t like me,” Rico finished the sentence for him.

Bubba nodded. “Yeah. She’s kind of out there—” he made waves with his hand “—when it comes to Anamarie.”

“Why is that? Or is it just with me?”

Bubba looked down at the floor and usually Rico wouldn’t say another word. He’d already fought all his battles and he wasn’t looking for another one. But this was about Anamarie and that was too important for him to walk away.

“You’re judging me, Bubba, and your family is judging me without knowing the facts. You have no idea why I was in prison. You just know that I was and automatically that puts me on the outside of your righteous family.”

“Come on, Rico, that’s not true. The Rebel family accepted you and they mean a lot to me. They have been my friends all my life and that makes you my friend.”

Rico shook his head. “Until you can accept me for me without the Rebels’ approval, you’re not my friend.”

“Come on, Rico.”

The sheriff came through the door and Rico walked out of the cell to talk to him. Some things were more important than the hypocrisy of the Wiznowski family.

“What did you find out?” he asked the sheriff, Wyatt Carson.

When Rico had first come to Horseshoe, he steered clear of the sheriff and his deputies. He just felt safer that way. But over the years Wyatt had begun to trust him and treated him as a person and not a convict. He appreciated that and today their relationship was based on trust, especially after rescuing the kids from the school before the bombing.

Wyatt removed his hat and sat in his chair. It squeaked from his weight. Wyatt had to be in his forties and he’d been sheriff for a long time. Everyone respected him, as did Rico.

Scooting forward, Wyatt asked, “I sensed a little tension when I came in. Is something going on with you and Bubba?”

Rico always tried to be honest and today he didn’t shy away from that. “He and Miss Doris object to my friendship with Anamarie.”

“Anamarie, huh? I didn’t see that one coming and—” he held up a hand “—I’m not getting involved. But give Bubba a chance. He’ll come around. That’s the type of guy he is.”

Rico didn’t get a chance to respond as Bubba shouted from somewhere in the jail, “Wyatt, I’m clocking out.”

“Okay,” Wyatt called back. “But hang tight. I might need you some more today.”

“Will do.”

Rico was through with small talk. He needed to know what had happened at Mrs. Miller’s.

“Wendy has passed away, probably night before last,” Wyatt said before Rico could ask anything.

“That means Dustin was alone for two nights and a day.”

“The funeral home is picking up the body and Stuart is over there getting all the information. I talked to Mrs. Waring, who lives next door, and she said Wendy had pneumonia and the doctor wanted to put her in the hospital, but she refused because she didn’t have anywhere to leave Dustin.”

“What kind of neighbor is she that she didn’t offer to help?”

Wyatt glanced at Rico. “She’s eighty-five years old and uses a walker. There’s no way she could handle a four-year-old.”

“Sorry, the thought of that little boy walking around during the night looking for food just gets to me.”

“Mrs. Waring also said that Dustin’s mother is still in prison for drug use. There is a sister, but as I recall Darlene and Connie are not on good terms. Connie didn’t take Dustin when Darlene went to prison, so I’m guessing she’s not going to want him now. I’ll leave that up to CPS.”

“A four-year-old couldn’t have been easy for Mrs. Miller.”

“She was fifty-two years old, Rico, but had a lot of health problems. She was a heavy smoker and had COPD and used an inhaler every day, so yeah it probably wasn’t easy.”

Another place. Another time. A great-grandmother had accepted a four-year-old into her life and it had changed that little boy forever. Would Dustin be that lucky?

“I have to call CPS to find a home for Dustin until they can locate the aunt or a relative who will take him.”

“They’ll put him in foster care.” Rico’s stomach clenched. The words created a bad taste in his mouth and he knew he had to do something. “Wyatt, can I ask a favor?”

“Sure.”

“I’ll take him until they find someone.”

Wyatt leaned back his chair. “Rico, that’s very admirable of you, but I have to be honest. CPS will do a thorough background check before they place Dustin in your care. And you know what that means.”

“My record.”

“Yeah.”

“My record was supposed to be expunged. Will I have to pay for it the rest of my life? I’m a model citizen and you know that.” Rico looked at his friend. “You would vouch for me, wouldn’t you? To keep Dustin from being put into the system?”

“Rico.” Wyatt sighed. “I’d trust you with my own kids, but this is CPS. They have rules and have to cross their t’s and dot their i’s. I’m sorry, that’s just the way it is.”

“Then why is there so much abuse and neglect in foster homes?”

Wyatt shrugged.

“I can offer Dustin a home for now. I never take any vacation and I know Miss Kate and Falcon will give me some days off. Dustin needs someone to be there for him. One-on-one. Not a household full of kids. I can help him through this. I’ve been through it.” He stared into the sheriff’s eyes. “Don’t let me down. Don’t let Dustin down.”

“Rico...”

A loud wail sounded from the jail cell and Rico bounded for the door. Dusty was sitting up crying at the top of his lungs. Mickey barked just as loud. Rico quickly gathered the howling boy into his arms and said, “Hey, hey, buddy. I’m here. Everything’s going to be okay.”

Dusty buried his face into Rico’s chest. “I want my grandma. I want my grandma.”

“You have to tell him,” Wyatt whispered, standing in the doorway.

“I know.”

“I can do it, if you’d rather.”

“No, I just need a few minutes.”

“I’m going to talk to CPS.”

He held Dusty a little tighter and the boy drifted off to sleep again. Rico couldn’t do this alone. He needed help. There was only one person he wanted with him. He fished his phone out of his pocket and sent a text to Anamarie:

I need help telling Dusty his grandmother has died. Do you have time?

In a second he got a text back: I’ll be right there.

The weight on his shoulders lifted a little.

Dusty stirred and looked up at Rico. “What’s your name?” he asked.

“My real name is Jericho, but everyone calls me Rico.”

Dustin touched the scar on Rico’s face. “How did you get that?”

“In a fight.”

“Did you win?”

“Yeah.” Sort of.

“Can you take me home now?”

“We need to talk first, buddy.”

“Why?”

Rico heard the front door open and soon Anamarie was in the cell. Her face was slightly flushed, as if she’d run there.

She sat beside them. “Hi, Dusty. Look what I brought you.” She handed him a sippy cup of milk.

“Thank you. I have to pay you for it.”

“No, no, you don’t. You’ve already paid me. Remember?”

Dusty sipped at the milk. “’Kay,” he mumbled.

Rico looked at Anamarie for guidance. He didn’t know how to start the conversation, but he knew he had to. Dusty took it out of his hands.

“I want my grandma.”

Rico’s arms wrapped around the boy and he struggled for words. The right words. “The sheriff checked on your grandmother and...she went home to Jesus.”

Dusty sat up, his dark eyes wide. “Without me?” he cried.

Clearly the boy misunderstood and Rico was going to have to say the words out loud. “Buddy, can you be brave for me?”

Dusty nodded, taking another sip of milk, his eyes on Rico.

He took a deep breath. “Your grandmother...died. That’s why you couldn’t wake her. She went to heaven to be with Jesus. Do you understand?”

“No!” Dusty shouted and threw the milk on the floor. “No!” Pitiful sounds erupted from his throat and then he laid his head on Rico’s chest and sobbed until Rico thought his heart would break. At that moment he realized he had never had the chance to cry for his own mother when she had died. But he’d cried for his great-grandmother like Dusty was crying now. That pain he would never forget.

Anamarie moved closer and stroked the boy’s hair. “It’s okay, sweetie. Cry all you want. Rico and I are here for you.”

“Rico,” Wyatt called from his office. “Can we talk a minute?”

“Sure.” With his thumb, he wiped a tear from Dusty’s cheek. “Stay with Anamarie. I’ll be right back.” He placed the boy in Anamarie’s lap and she cuddled him close. Dusty seemed content.

“I just got off the phone with the CPS worker for this area. At the moment she doesn’t have a foster home for the boy, but she said she would have one shortly just as soon as she could talk someone into it. All the foster homes are full.”

“And...” He was hoping the next part would be what he wanted to hear.

“I told her there was someone here who would take the boy and give him a temporary home. She asked a lot of questions about you and I told her all she wanted to know.”

“And...”

“She agreed to let you keep him temporarily, but she will be here at ten o’clock in the morning to visit with you and the boy at your home.”

“No problem.” The boulder on his chest eased. “Thank you, Wyatt.”

“You might want to call Miss Kate. The caseworker will be calling her for a character reference.”

“I don’t need to call Miss Kate. I trust her to tell the truth and I have nothing to hide.”

Wyatt seemed unsure as he shuffled papers on his desk. “I didn’t mention anything about your prison record. I’ll catch flak for that, but I’m willing to do it so the boy won’t have to go into a foster home until they find a relative. And I think you’re right. He needs to be with someone who cares about him.” The sheriff looked at him. “And I believe you do.”

“Yes, and I’ll do anything to keep a kid out of foster care.”

The sheriff eased back in his chair. “Sometimes the only place a kid has to go is foster homes, and some are really good. I sense you’ve had a bad experience with them. Would you like to talk about it?”

“No, but thanks for the offer.” Rico glanced toward the cell. “Can I take him home now?”

“Sure. Let’s see how Dustin feels about it.”

Before they could reach the cell, Stuart, the chief deputy, came through the front door. He had a duffel bag in his hand.

Stuart was born and raised in Horseshoe and was a dedicated police officer. “I brought some of the boy’s things,” he said.

“Good,” the sheriff replied. “Just leave it at my desk.” Then he whispered to Rico, “Don’t get too attached. They will find a home for him.”

Rico tried to remember that as Dusty practically leapt into his arms. “Can we go to my house now?”

Rico sat with Dusty on his lap and was glad Anamarie was there to give him support. “You can’t stay there by yourself, buddy.”

The boy went limp against him. “Oh.”

“Would you like to come home with me?”

Dusty raised up, his eyes bright. “My mommy’s gonna come get me.”

Rico was thrown for a moment. “What?”

“My grandma said she was sick and when she got better she would come and get me. She’s probably better now.”

Rico glanced at Wyatt, but he didn’t offer any advice. “Buddy, we’ll check on your mommy, but in the meantime you have to stay somewhere.”

The boy’s dark eyes grew thoughtful. “’Kay. I stay with you. Where do you live?”

“On a ranch.”

“Can Mickey come, too?”

“You bet.”

The little boy’s eyes brightened. “You got a horse?”

“Sure do.”

“Can I ride it?”

“You bet.”

“Can Ann-a-ma... I can’t say her name.”

Anamarie touched his cheek. “You can call me Ana.”

“Can Ana come, too?”

Rico looked into Anamarie’s blue eyes. “You bet.” He got to his feet, feeling a little unsure of what was ahead of him, but he could do no less.

“That’s so nice of you to take him.”

Rico placed Dustin on his feet. “Go tell the sheriff thank you for letting you stay with me. Then we’ll go.”

“’Kay.”

Rico needed a minute to talk to Anamarie. She picked up the sippy cup, which hadn’t broken or leaked onto the floor. “I might need your help. Are you available?”

She smiled one of her custom smiles. “You bet.”

They walked back to the bakery with Dusty between them. Mickey trailed behind. Rico carried the duffel bag and quilt over his shoulder, and thought this was a slice of heaven being together with Anamarie and Dusty. It was almost like a family. It was almost real. The almost kept him from thinking any further. Happy ever after wasn’t in his future. It never had been.

ANAMARIE WAVED GOODBYE and hurried into the bakery. People in line were waiting for kolaches. “Good morning,” she said to everyone.

Margie was at the counter and mouthed, “Sorry.” Anamarie thought it was about being late, but then she nodded toward the kitchen and she knew it was about something entirely different. Her mother was there.

All the wonderful feelings inside her vanished as she walked into the kitchen. Her mother’s gray hair stuck out in all directions as if she hadn’t taken time to comb it, and fury tightened every line on her sixty-seven-year-old face.

“Where have you been?” Her mother aimed the question at her like a dagger. “People are waiting to be served and there’s only Judy and Margie here. It is your job to run this bakery.”

Anamarie gritted her teeth and reached for her apron on a peg. Don’t react. Don’t react, she kept repeating to herself. “I’m well aware of my job description, but there was an unforeseen incident this morning that needed my attention. And it was more important than selling kolaches.”

“I’m sorry about Wendy. She was a good woman, but her grandson is none of your concern.”

Anamarie fingered the cotton of the apron in her hand and fought to keep words from spewing out. “A little boy walking around in the dark looking for food is everyone’s business. He didn’t know his grandmother had passed away. He only knew she wasn’t waking up. I went over to the jail to help tell him about his grandmother. If that offends you, then you have a problem.”

“You were with him. Don’t deny it.”

“If you mean Rico, yes, I was with him.”

“Bubba said he comes in here early before the store opens.”

Anamarie took a long breath. Thanks, Bubba. “Yes, he comes in early to pick up kolaches for the Rebel family.”

“Before six in the morning?”

“Yes.”

“And you let him in?”

Anamarie nodded, getting tired of this conversation, but she wasn’t going to lie to soothe her mother’s judgmental attitude. “We have a cup of coffee and talk. He’s a very nice man.”

“You know nothing about him.”

“I know everything that counts. He’s warm and caring and wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

“I won’t have this, Anamarie.”

“Have what?”

“Have you getting involved with that man. He’s an ex-con. Have you forgotten?”

“No. I see him as the man who risked his life to save all the kids in this town without thinking about himself.”

“That was Elias. You’re fantasizing about this man.”

“Elias couldn’t get all those kids out by himself. Rico was right there with him and if you can’t see that, then I’m not talking to you anymore.”

“I don’t like your attitude. I own this bakery and you will do what I tell you. You will not let that man in this bakery before six. I’ll call Miss Kate about it.”

Anamarie waved a hand. “Call Miss Kate and you’ll find out how much the Rebel family loves Rico. Once you make that call the Rebel family will not come back to the bakery, and do you remember Rachel, your daughter Angie’s best friend? She’s married to Egan and they will not be back in here, either. Miss Kate has a lot of power in this town and your customer list will dwindle. So please make that call.”

Her mother’s eyes narrowed to a steely foreboding. “I forbid you to see this man. I will not have you getting involved with an ex-con. That’s my last word. You will not bring disgrace to our family.”

She turned to hang her apron on the peg and saw Rico standing in the doorway. He held the quilt she’d given him for Dusty in his hands. Without a word, he laid it on the counter and walked out.

No! No! No!

She ran after him but she wasn’t quick enough. She saw his truck leaving the parking lot. Not a sound could be heard as people stood there watching and waiting for their orders. Anamarie didn’t acknowledge anyone. She calmly walked back to the kitchen, seething.

The apron lay on the floor where she’d dropped it. She picked it up and hooked it over the peg. The moment she saw the hurt in his dark eyes she’d made a decision and she had to have the courage to follow through.

“It’s better he heard it this way.” Her mother went on as if nothing had happened. “There are a lot of men in this town who would go out with you. All you have to do is fix yourself up and lose some weight. You can find someone better than Jericho Johnson.”

The seething turned to a full-blown rage, which threatened to explode right into her mother’s face. But she was raised to respect her parents and she calmly reached for her purse and said. “As of this moment, I no longer work here. I quit. And I will not be coming back.”

“What are you talking about? You run this bakery.”

“But you own it, as you so rudely told me. Now run it.” Turning on her heel, she headed for the back door.

“Anamarie, come back here. Don’t you dare leave this bakery!”

Anamarie slammed the door so hard she was sure the customers at the front could feel it. She felt it, too. It was a release of all the anger inside her. But it would take a lot more than slamming a door to ease the pain in her.

For years she’d been on a treadmill of doing what her mother wanted and the sad part was she felt there wasn’t anything else out there for her but to become the old maid of Horseshoe, Texas.

No one is ever going to want you. Fix yourself up. Lose some weight.

She’d heard those words for years and the criticisms eventually got to her. She believed them. Rico showed her she was still young, vibrant and attractive. She saw it in his eyes every Tuesday morning. He teased her, laughed with her and made her feel things she’d thought had died long ago. For once in her life she wasn’t looking back or thinking the situation to death. There was only one option for her: she had to go forward to find herself, and to find the young girl she’d left behind with the heartache and the pain. And she had to embrace the woman she’d become to find the love she wanted. Because above all else she deserved it just like every other woman. And she saw her future in the dark, warm eyes of Jericho.