Chapter 17 Olivia #2
“Thanks,” she mutters, looking away again.
“No problem. We had super fun, didn’t we, Taylor?”
“Yes.” The child slumps into her mother with her thumb in her mouth. It’s past eight and, as I predicted, the kid is fading.
I’m about to sit down and finish the wine, when a tap on my shoulder stops me. Adam Banks is standing before me, his smile dazzling. He’s even more tan than the last time I saw him a couple of weeks ago at the house, and his white T-shirt shows off his color.
“Hey, Liv, good to run into you,” he says. “Hi, Mrs. Grainger. Mr. Grainger.”
“Hello, detective,” my mother coos, as Dad nods a greeting.
“Good to see you too,” I tell him. “I’m surprised you spotted me in this crowd.”
He laughs, looking at Taylor, who is drifting into a nap on her mother’s lap. “I was watching the band and I couldn’t miss you and that little girl. A pair of crazies doing the most insane dance moves ever.”
I chuckle. “My niece requires very silly entertainment. You wanna head over to the band again for a while? I think they’re playing another half-hour or so.” Truth is, I don’t want to subject him to the interrogation I can see Mom’s waiting to start.
Adam nods, waving farewell to my parents. Even as we leave, I can see Mom leaning in to tell Dad something, no doubt about her transparent hopes for me getting involved with Detective Banks.
“You doing okay?” Adam asks as we weave through the crowd toward the people dancing near the stage.
“Pretty good, I guess. Definitely progressing with my family. Tonight is the first time I’ve been able to bond with my niece, or be on civil terms with my sister. So that’s a big step.”
He stops behind a group of dancers, nodding his head to the beat of the funk band. Or at what I’m saying. Perhaps both.
“And the job I’m not supposed to know about? That going well?” He has to raise his voice over the music.
“Yeah, it’s fun. I got lucky and drew the long straw to get tonight’s dinner shift off work, otherwise I’d be there now.
Keeps me busy, gives me something to do, and the tips are really good.
I’m earning more than I thought I would.
It almost makes me feel like I could manage, you know?
Get a small place of my own, or something.
But I guess that’s a pipe dream. It’s probably not sustainable, working like this. ”
Adam pushes out his generous lips as he considers this. “Probably not. Not without a Social Security number, not paying your taxes . . . It’d catch up with you, even if generous folk like me look away. You won’t get this kind of preferential treatment from other authorities.”
He grins, turning to me, but the smile fades.
“I’ve done as much research as I can on what happens to John or Jane Does without any ID.
It’s generally . . . not a good outcome.
I don’t know how I can help you any further.
I feel totally useless.” He screws up his nose.
“I hate it. I’m not used to being unable to help.
I took this job so I could help people, and I do, every day. But with you . . . I’ve got nothing.”
I put my hand on his arm. “It’s not your job to take care of me.
You did your part, and you really did help me.
Getting me back with my family, getting the DNA tests done, everything.
It’s not your fault this situation is so weird and unprecedented.
It’s not in your control. Not in any of our control.
” I turn back to the band. “I just have to figure out how to live with how it is. At least now I have comfortable accommodations, and I’m earning some money. Could be a lot worse.”
He nods again, but says nothing more.
We listen to the music for a while, occasionally commenting on the song being played, or pointing out an eccentric dancer.
As the band moves into a final slower number, I wonder if Adam will ask me to dance, but he doesn’t.
Couples move before us in a sultry two-step, and it’s a little awkward to be watching but not joining in.
I’m somewhat relieved when the band stops, and the crowd applauds.
“I better get back to my family for the fireworks,” I tell Adam. “You care to join us?”
He smiles. “No, I’m with buddies, I shouldn’t desert them all night. One of them is my ride home, and I’ll never find them when everyone’s leaving. But I’d love to check in with you again. Do you have a cellphone now?”
“Oh. Yeah, sure.” I give him my number and he taps it into his own phone. “So, yeah,” I add awkwardly, “keep in touch. Have a great night.”
He smiles at me. “I’ll text you. Goodnight, Liv.”
I join my family just as they’re rising to gather the picnic items. The crowd has intensified ahead of the fireworks. Little Taylor is asleep in Charlotte’s arms, her head lolling on her shoulder. I smile at them, and my sister gives me an involuntary smile back, then quickly turns away.
“Have fun with Detective Banks?” Mom asks, pointedly.
“Sure, he’s a nice guy,” I say, packing up some trash.
“You going to see him again?” She folds up a blanket, trying to act all casual.
I sigh, closing the cooler. “Maybe, Mom. I don’t know. Look, the fireworks are starting.”
As the spectacular colors explode against the darkening sky, Mom’s question repeats in my head.
What will I do if Adam texts and wants to meet up?
He’s showing clear interest, researching options for me, taking my number.
Coming round to the house when he’s not on my case anymore, and he’s off duty.
But I don’t think I can return his interest, no matter how keen Mom is, or how convenient it would be to get involved with a man who’s as good-looking and kind as he is, and who could take care of me.
I don’t want to be taken care of. By anyone. I need to be my own woman. Independent. Free.
And there’s the small matter of the man I’m in love with.
Jake Johnson.