Chapter 2
Marcus
As I drove home, I checked the rearview mirror, my gaze landing on Noah in the booster seat behind me.
He wore a Robin costume, complete with the mask, which he refused to take off.
I had tried to get him to wear regular clothes once, but he looked at me with the biggest, saddest eyes and simply said, “I don’t want to. ”
I immediately gave up.
Right now, his eyes were downcast, and he clutched an action figure in his left hand.
We had just left my real estate office. I was taking him everywhere with me because I didn’t want to leave him alone with anyone else since I was worried about him feeling abandoned.
I knew taking care of him would be a challenge, but I had no idea how much. I already felt as if I was failing. Miserably.
Four days ago, I received a phone call from Julia Richmond, and my life changed.
While processing the fact that my best friend was gone, I was stumbling through this guardian role.
When I picked up Noah, the babysitter—Mrs. Patterson—had warned me that he wasn’t talking much or eating either.
Since then, I had tried everything I could think of.
I gave him cereal, Pop Tarts, chicken nuggets, mini pizzas, and other food I believed kids enjoyed—some I remembered him eating whenever I spent time with him and his dad, Brandon.
But all he did was take a bite or two and then push the plate away.
If I didn’t figure out something soon, the kid might die of malnutrition.
“Do you want to get something to eat? We can get hotdogs.” Personally, I wasn’t hungry, but I figured he might be. He hadn’t eaten much of the cereal I gave him this morning and had only eaten a couple of chips for lunch.
“Okay.” He answered in a dull, lifeless voice.
He might take two bites and then be done, but I was hoping he would eat more than that. All kids liked hotdogs, didn’t they?
My phone rang, and this time I recognized the number, though I hadn’t saved her name. It was Julia, the child advocate. Crap. I had forgotten to call her.
Instead of putting her on speaker as I normally would when I was alone in the car, I stuck my Bluetooth in my ear and answered. “Marcus Hayes.” I sounded as lifeless and dull as Noah did.
“Hello, Marcus. It’s Julia Richmond, the child advocate. We spoke a few days ago, and I’m checking to see how you and Noah are doing.” Thankfully, her voice wasn’t accusatory.
I glanced at the rearview mirror. Noah sat with slumped shoulders, head bent, a slight furrow on his brow. What was he thinking about?
“We’re... managing,” I answered, hoping she could read between the lines.
“Managing. Okay,” she said, in a way that made me suspect she fully understood that I was struggling. “As I explained during our first conversation, I’d like to assess how Noah is adjusting to his new environment. Are you at home right now?”
“Actually, I’m on the road. I just left my office, and he’s with me.”
“In that case, would it be too much trouble for you to stop by my office? There’s a park across the street, and we can go there to be on neutral ground and talk. Would that work for you?”
“Yeah, that would work. Do you want us to come now?”
“If you’re available, yes. Or I can stop by your home later.”
“Now is fine. Where are you located?”
She gave me the address, and I was familiar with the area.
“We’ll be there in about twenty minutes.”
“Perfect. I’ll see you then.”
I hung up, and my eyes shifted to the rearview mirror again. “Hey, buddy,” I said to Noah, “we’re going to make a quick stop before we get something to eat, okay?”
“Okay.” He never looked up.
When we arrived at the building where the Safe Harbor Child Advocacy office was located, I parked my vehicle, climbed out, and helped Noah down from the backseat.
I held his smaller hand in mine as we walked toward the building.
When we were almost at the door, I saw a petite woman standing out front.
She couldn’t be more than five foot three, with dark brown skin and her natural hair parted in the middle and smoothed into a bun at her nape.
In tan slacks and a cream blouse, she appeared professional yet approachable.
She smiled and extended her hand. “Marcus?”
“That’s me.” I took her smaller hand in mine and briefly shook it. Oddly, I experienced a tingling sensation in the palm of my hand but ignored it. Granted, I found her attractive, but this was not the time to get distracted.
“I’m Julia. Nice to meet you.”
“Likewise. This little guy right here is Noah.” I made my voice sound more animated to try to get a response out of him, but he kept looking down at the pavement.
Julia crouched to his level and softened her voice. “Hi, Noah. I’m Miss Julia. I love your costume. Are you Robin, Batman’s sidekick?”
He nodded, not meeting her eyes.
“I always liked Robin. He’s very brave, just like Batman.”
He didn’t acknowledge her comment at all this time.
Julia stood. “Let’s go over to the park.”
We crossed the street, and she asked Noah if he’d like to get on the swing.
“Okay,” he said, his answer to everything in the same lifeless voice.
A little girl who appeared a few years older than him was on one of the swings. She looked at him with curiosity as he sat down. He held on to the metal chains on either side of the seat and just sat there, barely moving.
“How’s he doing?” Julia asked in a low voice.
“Not great,” I admitted. “He’s not eating and doesn’t speak unless spoken to.
This is a kid who used to talk my ear off every time I went over to his house.
Now... nothing. And he refuses to take off the costume.
He wears it all day and only changes when it’s time to go to bed and put on his pajamas. ”
“For a child who has experienced his type of trauma, the costume probably has some special meaning. It’s providing comfort and makes him feel safe and powerful, offering a little bit of control in a world that for him has careened out of control and become unfamiliar without his parents.”
I watched his bent head, and my chest burned with sorrow. “What should I do?”
“Let him keep the security of the costume for now. He needs it. Keep it washed and clean, and let’s see how long this period continues. You said he isn’t eating. Has he shown interest in any food you’ve offered?”
“Nothing. Not pizza, not cereal, not chicken nuggets. What kid doesn’t like chicken nuggets?
I know I’ve seen him eat them, but he isn’t interested in anything children normally like.
I called his babysitter, and she gave me suggestions, but the result is the same.
He barely acknowledges the plates I put in front of him. ”
Julia was quiet for a moment, which gave me an opportunity to study her.
Her skin wasn’t simply dark brown. It was a deep, even brown that glowed like burnished bronze.
She had high cheekbones and a graceful nose that flowed into full, sculpted lips.
I couldn’t tell the length of her natural hair, but the style flattered the symmetry of her features and exposed the enticingly feminine slope of her neck.
I briefly looked at her hands. No ring. Surprising. But a woman who looked like her probably had a man. She had an open, friendly face and was attractive in a girl-next-door kind of way.
She swung her head in my direction, and when our eyes met, my breath caught.
I’d lost track of the many women I’d slept with over the years.
I liked women, period. So I never considered myself as having a type, but if I did, it would be this woman right here.
Whoever her man was—if she had one—he was a lucky bastard.
“What does Noah call you?” Julia asked.
“He calls me Uncle Marcus. He’s been doing that since he was a toddler,” I answered.
“Mind if I talk to him alone for a minute?”
“Go right ahead,” I said, though I doubted she would make any progress.
She walked away, the skinny heels of her shoes sinking into the grass with each step, her hips swinging gently from left to right as she moved. There was something about Julia that captured my attention.
If we had met under different circumstances, I’d definitely holler at her.