29. Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Stephen
Instead of going home, I drive to Rockdown to interview a potential recruit for the company.
He’s ex-military, and his résumé was one of the more impressive ones we’ve received in terms of his knowledge and service.
During our chat, he asks some hard questions, particularly in relation to Hernandez dying in the car crash.
At the end of the interview, he tells me he’ll call me if he’s still interested in working for us, so not exactly a home run.
With a sigh, I pull into the parking lot of the assisted-living place my parents moved into the other day. From talking to them on the phone, it seemed like they were settling in well, but this is the first time I’ve been able to drag myself away from Ava and Landon to check for myself.
The lobby is brightly lit with colorful paintings on the pale-brown walls. I’d been a little worried that “government subsidized” might have been code for “run-down.”
At the information desk, I ask where Lorraine and Walter Foster are located, and the nurse leads me through the weaving corridors until we’re in a communal area. Out in the gardens, my mother and father are both sitting with a group of other people, playing cards.
The nurse leaves, and I watch them for a beat. My father laughs after he’s obviously won a hand, and my mother grins while sitting in a straight-backed chair next to a walker. The other people around them also seem jovial as another hand is dealt.
I push through the door, the warm sun hitting my face, and I realize I haven’t spent much time outside lately either.
With my parents both sick or injured, I’d started to think I knew best, but it turns out they’re still the ones that do.
Those roles aren’t reversed yet. They seem happier, and while my happiness is tenuous—reliant on so much I can’t predict yet—I can’t deny that removing the weight of nursing schedules, alternating night watches with Vanessa, and keeping on top of who’s paying what to whom has been a relief.
Maybe we all were living half lives in a desire to cling to something that no longer served any of us.
“Hey,” I say as I approach the table. “Is the old man winning?”
“The old man is,” my father says, beaming.
“Penny poker,” one of the other men at the table says.
“I just thought I’d stop in to see how you’re both doing,” I say.
My mother checks her watch. “I’m due to move around again. Everyone, this is our son, Stephen. Most of you have already met Vanessa.”
She doesn’t mean for her comment to be a dig, but I feel it nonetheless. My sister has been here, and I have not. My mother rattles off the names of everyone at the table and then beckons me over to help her stand.
Once she’s up, I help her get the walker in position.
“Are you supposed to be walking around?” I ask.
“Yes,” she says with a little chuckle. “I’m a rule follower, don’t you worry. Can’t be sitting for longer than sixty minutes at a time. Thirty to forty-five is better.” She takes a step and then calls over her shoulder, “You stay here, Walter. Add to our pot.”
“I won’t let you down, my love,” he says.
“Living here is going well?” I ask as I shuffle beside her, her progress slow.
“Happier than I’ve been in a long time,” she says.
“We get to play cards in the sun with people who still have all their marbles. There’s bingo on a regular basis.
We can both do Chair Fit, and the other night, there was an outdoor movie.
Food’s not great. That’s my only complaint. Edible, but not like your cooking.”
“I’ll remember that next time I come,” I say. “I’ll bring you some treats.”
“Vanessa says you’ve moved Ava and Landon into our old apartment. Glad to hear it’s getting some use.”
“Just not sure if the threat is gone, and that big house of hers is probably too much right now.”
“Right,” my mother says, sliding me a sly smile. “Of course.”
Since I don’t know exactly what to tell her yet, I let her assumptions go unchecked or defended.
“Van’s been here quite a bit?” I ask.
“Every day,” my mom says. “I worry about that girl, though. I thought us moving out might have made things easier on her, but she’s still burning the candle at both ends.”
“She’s not working,” I say.
“She is!” my mother says, giving me a dirty look. “Working at that underground parking lot in Rockdown. Nights! Can you imagine her all alone in an underground parking lot? Shameful, if you ask me.”
“I doubt she’s there alone,” I say, but I vow that I’ll have to force myself to make those phone calls when I leave here.
Did she really have that job interview the night of the accident?
Do the traffic cameras show her rushing through Bellerive to get back to my parents, late but where she said she was?
“Then during the day,” my mother says, as we inch toward the door into the facility, “she’s out scheming with those union people.”
“Scheming?” I ask, prickling at the implication.
“I don’t know,” my mother amends. “She doesn’t say much. But she’s not the same Nessy she used to be.”
I hit the automatic button on the door, and I’m somewhat relieved when my mother points to the door directly across the hall. We’re not breaking any speed records. “That’s us,” she says.
Their door also has an automatic opener, and I hit that. The heavy door creaks back, and I look it over carefully. “Can you lock this?” I ask.
“Yes and no,” my mother says. “Staff can still get in, but we can lock the automatic opener from being used when we’re sleeping. Staff use a passkey system to get in to check on us.”
“That seems safe to you?” I ask.
“Yes, Stephen,” she says as though I’m being paranoid. “We’ve got nothing worth stealing anyway.”
“Some memory patients can get violent, or so I’ve heard.”
“They’re in a separate wing. Our wing is for people who play cards and just need a bit of physical assistance. We’ve made some friends. Not too bad all around.” She pats my arm before inching into her room. “I need you to worry about your sister, not about us.”
“Got it,” I say as I follow behind her. That’s two people who’ve put Vanessa firmly back on my radar.
In my driveway, once I’m back home, I make the call I’ve been dreading.
Since I don’t know exactly which parking company she’s working for, my best bet is to use my own contacts to determine if she’s lying.
At the station switchboard, I plug in the extension from memory, and when Rafael’s deep baritone answers, I breathe a sigh of relief.
“Raf,” I say, “it’s Stephen Foster.”
“Stephen Foster,” he says with fondness. “What are you up to, you old cat?”
We make small talk for a few minutes, and I remember to ask about his wife and kids. Realizing his kids are all grown up makes me feel old.
“I’m sure you didn’t call for a catch-up,” Rafael says, “as nice as this is. What can I do for you?”
“Can you pull camera footage along any routes from Rockdown to Tucker’s Town?”
“Quite a few routes to pull,” he says. “Might take me a few days. Which date are you looking for?”
I check my watch and then rattle off the evening and time frame. “Lots of routes,” I agree, “but a narrow band of time.”
“What am I looking for?”
I give him the make, model, and license plate for Vanessa’s car, and then I send up a silent prayer that it appears when and where it should.
“That’s your sister’s car,” he says and lets out a low whistle. “I heard some rumblings.”
“I know,” I say. “She tells me she has an alibi. Just verifying.”
“Suppose it’ll save me some work if they ask me to do this later,” he says.
“Obviously, if this can stay between us…”
“Yeah, yeah. No worries. I’d be doing the same if my sister was mixed up in all this.”
“Hopefully she’s not,” I say. “You’ll call me if you find out anything?”
“I will. Soon as I’m sure what I’m seeing.”
“Thanks, Rafael. I appreciate it.”
“You helped me out of a scrape or two back in the day. Happy to return the favor.”
After I hang up, I sit in the car, flexing my hands on the steering wheel. She wouldn’t lie to me. She wouldn’t.
Even though I tell myself that over and over as I climb out of the car and walk toward the house, I can’t quite make myself believe it.
I enter the house, and Landon and Ava’s voices drift into the front foyer. Slowly, I toe off my shoes, letting the warmth of their presence soothe my tattered nerves. Ava chose here over everywhere else, and that’s not something I take lightly.
At the entrance to the living room, I lean against the doorway, and Ava glances up, a smile on her beautiful face. Her blue eyes are sparkling and alive, and I thank fucking god that she’s come out of all this okay.
“What are you playing?” I ask.
“Chess,” Landon says. “But I’m not very good. Do you have any other games? Mom said we couldn’t snoop.”
“Your mom said you couldn’t snoop?” I ask, coming over to place the back of my hand on Ava’s forehead, and she bats it away. “You feeling okay there, champ?”
“I was trying to be respectful,” she huffs out and then winces.
“Seriously,” I say, examining her. “You okay?”
“Our nurse, Rosalin, has been taking great care of us,” Ava confirms.
The nurse pops her head out of the kitchen and gives me a little wave. I didn’t remember her name earlier, but she was familiar. “Checked their wounds and changed their dressings. I called the head office, and they said you haven’t canceled any care going forward with your parents’ move?”
“No,” I say with a shake of my head. “These two need some basic help, and I have to keep working.”
“Tell the agency to start billing Ava Tucker,” Ava says as she moves a piece on the chessboard.
“I can—” I start.
“No,” Ava says, “you’re doing enough. Rosalin, please ask them to bill me. If I need to call to confirm tomorrow, I can do that.”
“I’ll let them know,” Rosalin says. “Shouldn’t be a problem to keep care consistent, since it was already booked for Mr. and Mrs. Foster.”
“Perfect,” Ava says. “You were great today. We really appreciate it.”
“I liked playing Rosalin better,” Landon says, glancing up at me. “I could beat her.”
“Okay,” Ava says with a faint laugh and a wince. “Are you back for the night?” she asks me.
“Unless there’s an emergency, I’m all yours,” I say.
“Then I’ll get out of here,” Rosalin says, checking her watch.
“If we owe overtime,” Ava says, “just bill me.”
“Only five minutes,” Rosalin says. “It’s within the grace period. I will see you two next time.” She gathers her things and heads to the front door.
“You wanted more games?” I say to Landon.
“You got any?” Landon asks, perking up.
“Battleship. Do you know how to play?”
“No. Can you teach me?” His eager expression tugs at my heartstrings.
After grabbing the game down from a high cupboard, I drag a kitchen chair into the living room to the small table they’re sitting at. The kitchen table would make more sense for the three of us, but I want the closeness. I used to love all these games, too, playing with my dad, trying to best him.
“It’d be an honor to teach you,” I say, my voice rough with emotions I couldn’t easily explain to either of them as I set up the pieces.
Ava runs her hand down my back and leans into my shoulder, her head resting on it for the briefest moment before she rises to go to the kitchen. When she returns, she stands at the edge of the living room, watching me explain the rules of play to Landon with a glass of water in her hand.
“Do you want one?” she asks, tapping the glass.
“I’m okay,” I say. “What about you, buddy?”
“I’m okay too,” he says, watching me carefully as I divvy out the ships.
We’re two games in when Landon goes from looking a little tired to downright exhausted. I catch Ava’s gaze and tip my head toward Landon.
“Last game,” she says. “Winner takes it all.”
When I land the final blow to Landon’s last ship, he mutters, “I gotta get better at hiding them.”
“Teeth. Jammies,” Ava says, ushering him toward the hallway. She watches him go and then turns to me, head cocked, “Are you okay?”
“Fine,” I say before I start packing up the game.
“No,” she says, “there’s something. But if you don’t want to tell me, I guess I haven’t earned that one yet.” She gives me a strained smile. “You know what I have earned, though? The story of these”—she runs her finger along my scarred cheek—“and that tiny hitch in your stride.”
“I don’t have a hitch in my stride,” I say, glancing up at her.
“You do.” She searches my face. “Probably only someone who’s watched you walk in and out of rooms a thousand times would notice.”
“My parents never said anything.”
“Would they?”
Maybe not. I’m realizing we might have spent too much time protecting each other in the wrong ways. “Maybe I stopped physio too early.”
“So you could come back to Bellerive?”
I slot the last piece into the box, shut it, and stand up, towering over Ava. When I’m at my full height, she’s such a tiny little thing, even though she’s probably a little above the average height for a woman. With a sigh, I smooth down her hair and kiss the top of it.
“Story time can wait until you’re feeling better.”
“I’m not that fragile, Stephen.”
“You are to me,” I say, planting another kiss on her temple. “I’m not compromising your recovery for a story that’s not all that important or questions that can wait for another time.”
She sighs and then wraps her arms around my waist and up my back, drawing me into a hug.
Her ear is pressed to my chest, and I let myself bask in the closeness.
I run a hand down her hair to cup her head, marveling that I can do this, again, finally.
The idea that I’d get to touch her in any capacity seemed so farfetched when I found out she married Raul Santos, had his child.
I close my eyes and take some deep breaths.
As much as I wish this moment could last forever, I’m afraid of the intensity of my desire, how quickly this all-encompassing want for her has come roaring back since I gave these feelings permission to rear their head again at the hospital.
Because the truth is, if Landon isn’t mine, if Raul wakes up—Ava’s going to have a hell of a decision to make.
There’s no way he’ll let her go without a fight.
If he and Celia are cut from the same cloth, he won’t play fair; he is likely to do whatever it takes to either make her pay for leaving or to ensure she can’t leave.
“I’m ready,” Landon calls when he comes out of the bathroom.
But I’m not. When Ava starts to pull away, I hold her close for another beat, and she puts her chin on my chest, staring up at me.
As I stare down at her, I'm at war with myself.
Half of me wants to freeze time, never leave this moment where everything I've ever wanted is possible, and another part of me wants to demand answers and escape this uncertainty, consequences be damned.
“Once you’re cleared by a doctor,” I say, “I’ll tell you whatever you want to hear.”
A slow smile spreads across her face. “You promise?”
“I promise.” And I think it might be the most foolish promise I’ve ever made.